


Finding Our Way Back

by makenalei



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Gen, Homecoming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-17 08:17:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 32,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1380556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makenalei/pseuds/makenalei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the war ends, Jon Snow just wants to put his old pack back together again. When the guard comes to the door announcing that there is a boyish looking girl at the gate claiming to be his sister, his heart races. Memories fill his mind of a long faced little girl with a thin little sword. Arya, he thinks as he races towards the gates, Arya has come home.</p><p>Or, two lone wolves find their way back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“I do not want it,” He told her stubbornly. Queen she may be, but she was not going to force him into accepting the lands. He would run before he did that.

“They will not kneel to me,”

“No more then they shall kneel to me,” He argued.

“A bastard Stark is close enough,” She snapped. 

“Let me continue the search for Rickon” He pleaded. Ser Davos had gone to the island of Skaggo’s years ago to search for the youngest of the Stark heirs, never to return. Before her death, the red priestess had been sure of Rickon’s location, but no one had ever returned from Skaggo’s after searching for him.

“It is a suicide mission” She replied, “I will not allow it”

“I could take Viserion”

“I will not have my heir and dragon disappear into whatever godforsaken trap lies on that island” 

Despite the fact that she was a blood-hardened warrior Queen, Daenerys had a fondness for her two nephews, the only two left of her blood. She married Aegon, for Jon had balked at the idea of marrying his Aunt. The two shared a mutual fondness of each other, not quite love yet, but more then friendship. Since they would be unlikely to have any children of their own, he had been named their heir.

“Then I will not accept the position”

The Queen sighed loudly, setting her goblet of wine down on the table with a loud thump. They had defeated the others and the wights together, they had overtaken the Seven Kingdoms together, and yet he was afraid of this.

“Your Graces” Ser Connington interrupted them with a loud knock on the door. He bowed as he entered. 

“Ser” The Queen inclined her head in acknowledgement.

‘There is a woman at the gates, your Grace” He explained, “She says that she is the sister of Jon Snow”

He stood up faster then he thought he could, but the Queen grabbed his wrist to hold him back even quicker.

“Where is she?” He questioned. He should have brought the girl to them.

“Well” The man sighed, “That’s why I came here before letting her in. She does not look like a proper lady”

“What does she look like?” He insisted. 

“She looks like a boy” He told them, “Her face was dirty and her hair was covered, but I think it was brown. She’s got a blade on her belt, and scars lining her hands. I think she used the blade recently, covered in blood it is,”

“It could be Arya,” He whispered, his heart already beating faster at the thought of seeing his long lost sister. She would be around fifteen now. “Let me go see”

“Jon” His Aunt warned, “It is probably just some poor girl looking for food or a favor”

“Or it could be Arya” He repeated. “Let me go,” She released his wrist, and he raced out of the room.

“Follow him, Aegon” He heard the Queen order. He heard footsteps behind him as he raced through the corridors towards the gates.

He slowed his pace as he exited the main building, not wanting the others to see him running about like a madman, though he ached to run faster. He could see two guards near the gate, obscuring a figure clad in tattered breeches and a well-worn tunic.

As soon as he saw the figure, he knew it wasn’t Arya. The figure was much too tall, nearly his height. The blade at the belt of the figure was indeed covered in blood that looked to be fresh, and the hands that went gloveless were scar marked and filthy.

“It’s not her,” He told Aegon as they approached. They would have to find out who the girl was, and then punish her for impersonating the King’s sister.

“Your grace” The guards bowed and stepped away from the girl. She looked up, but her hood kept her face hidden in the shadows.

“Who are you?” He questioned. Without a word, she pulled something out of her cloak and tossed it to the ground in front of him with a clang of metal against stone. He bent down and picked it up carefully.

It was a bronze crown with longsword looking spikes inlaid with symbols he knew to be runes of the First Men. He knew it to be his former brother’s crown, the King of the North’s crown.

He heard her draw her sword, and all the guards instantly had theirs pointing straight at her. She held out her scarred hands in peace, and dropped the sword to the ground as well. 

It was a strangely tinted Valayrian blade with a lion’s pommel. It appeared to be the sister blade of the one Daenerys had claimed after Tommen was defeated, the two that had been created from the melting down of Ice.

“Who are you?” He repeated. “You are not my sister, you are not Arya Stark”

“No, I am not Arya Stark” The girl answered in a voice that was raspy from disuse. “Nor am I your sister”

She pulled down the hood of her cloak to reveal auburn locks that cascading down her shoulders like waves against the sand. In the harsh sunlight, it looked like blood. Clear blue eyes met his, eyes he never dreamed he would see again.

“Sansa” He whispered.

“Your Grace” She curtsied in response. Aegon, who hadn’t clearly heard his whispered, stepped closer to him.

“Do you know her, Jon?” He questioned. “She isn’t your sister”

“I am his cousin, now” She answered for him, though he imagined he wouldn’t have been able to speak anyways, “Sansa”

“A Stark” A shadow fell across her face as Aegon spoke her surname. She looked conflicted.

‘I am no Stark” She told him softly. “Not anymore”

“Sansa” He repeated. She turned her attention back to him and smiled softly. He could not quite believe that she was alive and standing right in front of him. “You’re alive”

Aegon snorted. Sansa smiled softly at him. There was no malice or judgment in her blue eyes, just a soft emotion that he could not properly name.

He took that as an invitation to hug her. He couldn’t remember the last time he had done so, probably somewhere between her sixth and seventh name day, when she was taught that being a bastard was different and improper. She was thin beneath his arms, thinner then she should be, but she was warm, and to his surprise, compliant. 

She wrapped her own arms around him, burying her head against his chest. She trembled in his arms. When he pulled away, she had tears slipping down her cheeks, washing away the blood and filth off her face.

“Come, you need a hot bath and something to eat. We can discuss things later with the Queen” He told her, taking her arm in the crook of his own.

“I am glad that I found you, Jon” She whispered quietly as they entered the castle, “I really am”


	2. Chapter 2

They can go North together with one condition, they must marry. The Queen insists that they unify the kingdoms by doing so, and in turn, she will give them the gold and men needed to rebuild Winterfell.

“I will give you time to discuss it” The Queen tells then, leaving them alone in her solar. Sansa, freshly clean and dressed in a gown befitting her station, looks up to him.

“We do not have to do this” He tells her. Her face is a carefully blank mask.

“I want to go home,” She tells him simply.

‘As do I” He admits. He would never force her to marry him though. He knows enough of what he has been through, though she speaks little of it.

As their only option to return home, they both agree.

They are both older now; both know that, realistically, it is a good political match. The Northerners will bend the knee to her, as the daughter of Lord Eddard Stark, and the sister of King Robb. And as her husband, and heir to the iron throne, it gives peace to the two kingdoms.

He can return home without guilt, and she can return home in peace, no suitors chasing her tail.

The Queen has them marry in the capital while Winterfell is restored. Most of it had been restored earlier in the year, but there were still a few things to do.

“You look beautiful, my lady” Jon tells her softly as they walk, hand and hand, out of the Great Sept. He has taken to calling her more formal names, never just Sansa, as he had when she had first turned up.

It is his way of distancing them, she supposes. She isn’t bothered by the fact that they were raised as sister and brother, for he was never her brother. She treated him awful as a child, something she hoped to atone for in their marriage.

“Thank you, my lord” She replies demurely. He was disgusted by the way his eyes were drawn to her ample bosom, and the way his blood ran hot when the perfect, smooth curve of her neck was revealed. She was his sister not many years ago, his perfect lady of a sister.

She would have been scandalized with his thoughts, he imagined.

They dance together many times at their wedding feast, him resisting the urge to move his hands further down her luscious hips, and her resisting the urge to lay her head against his chest so that she may breathe in the scent that was uniquely Jon.

When it comes time for the bedding, she freezes immediately, her features paling in the low light of all the candles. He notices, of course, his eyes have not strayed far from her the entire night.

“No” He finds himself standing up, taking her with him. “There will be no bedding,” He tells them. Several people, his brother Aegon included, complain loudly. 

“As Prince Jon wishes,” The Queen says loudly, immediately silencing the crowd. He inclines his head in thanks to his Aunt, before leading Sansa out of the hall.

Her warm hand squeezes his tightly in thanks.

When they get to her chambers, there is a fire already roaring in the grates.

“Unlace me?” She asks, baring her back to him. He undoes the intricate laces with some difficulty, but she is patient.

She slips out of her gown with ease, leaving it pooled on the ground like a puddle of ivory samite and silk. She kicks off her slippers as well, and then bends to pull off her stockings.

In the light of the fire he can see a criss crossing of scars on her legs and on her back. They look to be whip marks, and he shivers.

“What are those from?” He asks, unable to stop himself. She frowns.

“Nothing” She tells him, turning to face him in the light of the fire. She’s beautiful, something he has always known. He feels the blood rushing through his veins at the sight of her, and his breeches grow tight. “Are you going to undress?” She asks him.

“We don’t have to do this,” He tells her through tight lips. He wants to, gods know he wants to, but he won’t force her.

“I am no maid,” She tells him truthfully. He had always known that there was a strong possibility that she wasn’t, not that he cared about that, but he did not want to think of how it came to be. He shuddered at the thought of what had befallen her, of what had turned his vibrant young cousin into the shell of a woman she was today. 

She watches him shudder and shame runs through her gut. She disgusted him, she knew it. The scars and the loss of her maiden’s gift. He was a prince; he could have had anyone, but instead got stuck with her. 

She did not know what to do, in truth. Petyr had taught her how to seduce men, to trick them into all sorts of things with sugary words and enticing movement, but somehow, doing that with Jon, it felt wrong. She had never felt so ill at the thought of it.

“We have a duty to the kingdoms,” She reminds him softly, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“If you are sure,” He states, slowly taking off his tunic and vest. His torso is scarred as well, but she does not comment on it. She keeps her eyes politely averted as he strips naked.

It is awkward and uncomfortable. She keeps her eyes shut while he stays as far from her as possible, both afraid of seeing the disgust or shame in the other’s eyes.

When it is over, he leaves for him own chambers with a muttered apology, while she rolls over and tries not to cry. She hasn’t cried in ages, not since the first time Petyr came to her chambers, but the disgust and shame she felt from Jon’s distance was enough to make her want to weep.

But a wolf did not weep, she told herself. So she wiped the few errant tears from her cheeks and strengthen her will.

She was a wolf, she would prevail.

He goes to his chambers and scrubs himself clean. He felt filthy thinking of her that way, thinking of doing the things he had thought of doing. She was not some wildling that had stolen into his furs for fun; not to mention that she had clearly been taken advantage of in the past.

No, he would not take advantage of her anymore. She did not deserve that.


	3. Chapter 3

After three full moons of marriage, Winterfell is ready to be inhabited again.

He takes her on Viserion. They both try not to enjoy the feeling of warmth and comfort as she grips him tightly in her fear of falling.

The small folk welcome them back warmly, fussing over the state of them, wishing them many strong boys and happy years together.

There are many newer faces, and a few older ones. The older ones, those that had lived in the North before the war remarked on how similar they looked to Lord Eddard and Lady Catlyn.

“We should visit the crypts,” She whispers at the end of the welcome feast. His Aunt and brother have left on the dragons, and the small folk were steadily leaving, as the night grew long.

“Of course” He nods. He did not realize she would have wanted him to go with her, thought he admits he is pleased by the idea. He grabs torch and instructs a guard to stand outside the entrance, just encase.

He grabs her shaking hand as they descend the uneven steps. The air is warm and moist underneath the castle, so close to the hot springs. They stop first at her father’s, at the man who he had always thought to be his own father.

He had tracked down his bones after the war. The Silent Sister’s that had been tasked with taking them North had never made it past the Quiet Isle. He had them brought here as soon as he had them in his possession.

He pulls Ice from his back, and slides it into place between the stone hands of Eddard Stark.

“It will stay here until Rickon or Bran is found, and if they wish it, it can be theirs,” he whispers. She nods silently beside him, and then moves on to her mother’s grave, while he stay in front of Lord Eddard’s.

“She isn’t dead,” She whispers brokenly, “Her body isn’t, at least. She’s a horrible shell of my mother,”

He had heard the rumors of Lady Stoneheart, of the former Lady Stark. She had been running rampart through the Riverlands until disappearing altogether after the wars ended.

“I know”

Together they move onto Robb’s statue. Jon tugs the crown off of his head and places it on Robb’s.  
“It is his,” He states, “Unless you want to wear it”

“No, it should be here” She agrees. She takes her own crown of winter roses, a gift from the townsfolk, and walks the few steps to his mother’s statue to place them upon her head.

“She was beautiful” Sansa murmurs, “Father used to tell me how much she adored winter roses” 

He doesn’t speak. He hasn’t quite come to terms with her being his mother yet, doesn’t see her beyond the Aunt he never met.

She takes his hand and hers and squeezes it gently.

They walk back to their chambers together, she to her mother’s old rooms, and he to their fathers.

“Goodnight, my lady” He presses a quick kiss to her cheek and leaves her outside her door.

An hour later, she knocks on his door, wide-awake. He does not answer, so she creaks the door open slowly. Ghost is asleep in front of the fire, but Jon is not in the room.

“Ghost” She whispers, and the giant white wolf perks up. He pads over to her, and she runs her hands through his fur.

“Where’s Jon?” She questions. The wolf bounds ahead of her, his paws silent against the stone ground. They pass several guards, but they let her pass. Ghost leads her through the main foyer and up a set of stairs. They arrive outside the doors to her father’s old solar, and now Jon’s. Ghost noses the door.

She knocks, and a few second later, he calls out to enter. He doesn’t look surprised to see her. He is sitting in front of the fire in the hard backed chair that usually resided behind the desk. He has a book in his lap.

“Can’t sleep?” He questions as she sits on the plush chair next to the fire. Ghost settles at her feet.

“Can you?” She replies.

“No” He shakes his head.

“What are you reading?”

“A book on Valayrian. My Aunt wishes me to learn it” He tells her, holding the book up so that she can see the symbols.

“I can help,” She offers. “If you would like”

Here, in Winterfell, they fall into a comfortable routine. In the waking hours, they maintain their distance; yet manage to convey a sense of unity in running the castle. When evening falls, they go to the solar, where she helps him learn Valayrian and he helps her learn how to do the inventory and run the sums for the household.

On the third moon of their return, he asks her about the sword and crown again. He had asked once when she had first turned up, but she had refused to speak of it.

“Jaime Lannister” She tells him softly, “He gave them to me”

“The Kingslayer?” He is unable to hide the surprise in his voice. “How did you end up with him?”

“He promised my mother that he would return me and Arya to her, before she let him free” She tells him, “He and Brienne found me, and brought me to you”

“Where did he get them?” He questions, “Where did he find you?” Even after half a year, he was still unsure of where she was between the time she disappeared from the capital to the time she reappeared.

“He brought me to my mother first, what was left of her” She shudders, “She had the crown, and Jaime, he had the sword. His father had given him the sword,” She avoids the topic of where she was. That was something she would tell him later. 

“Where did he go after leaving you in the capital?”

“I told him to leave the continent” She admits, “He and Brienne sailed to Essos”

“Who is Brienne?”

“Former heir of Lord Tarth” She smiles faintly, “She was a huge woman, taller then you even, taller then Jaime, and muscled like an ox. She had such honor, such strength. Arya would have loved her”

“And she was with Lannister?” He had seen her disproval at calling the man Kingslayer, but he could not bring himself to call him by his title or first name, not after what he had done to Bran.

“They were in love, I think” She smiles again, “It was strange to see, I suppose, she looked more like a man then he did” She frowns, “You’re not going to tell the Queen that they’re in Essos, are you?”

“No” He assures her, “They brought you back safely, they returned Robb’s crown, and the sword. They have my thanks”


	4. Chapter 4

She is sitting in her solar in the middle of the afternoon, absently embroidering a white direwolf onto on of Jon’s tunics, when the guards come rushing into the room. 

“My lady, a dragon was spotted” The guards tell her, “A green dragon”

“Rhaegal” She replies softly, though her heart races and her blood runs cold at the thought of what his arrival would herald, “Send word to Prince Jon immediately”

“Yes, my lady”

Aegon appears in her solar a half hour later, dressed in dry clothing that appear to belong to Jon, though she does not question it. His silver blonde hair is slightly damp, and sticks to his forehead.

“Lady Sansa” He bows and kisses her hand.

“Prince Aegon” She gestures for him to sit.

“I asked your guards to borrow some clothing from Jon,” He admits. 

“Grey suits you,” She tells him. He smiles and shakes his head.

“Grey does not, but I thank you for your kind words” He laughs, “Your captain of the guard tells me that Jon is out leading a hunt”

“He shall return as soon as possible” She tells him, “Is it that urgent?” She questions as she pours him some tea. She cannot seem to still her beating heart. The maid has brought a tray of hot tea, stew, and bread for him. 

“Trouble in the Reach” Aegon tells her as he gnaws at the bread, “We need Jon and Viserion, as a precaution”

“I have the utmost faith in both of you, Prince Aegon” She replies, “May I inquire into the issue in the Reach?”

“Slight discord” Aegon answers lightly, “Nothing we cannot handle. Dany just wants us to present as a united force” Dany, what Jon and Aegon both called their Aunt, though the fierce dragon queen looked nothing like her nickname suggested. 

“A slight discord” She repeats, arching her brow.

“Slight” He repeats, now slurping at his soup. Aegon reminded her somewhat of Robb, though Jon had assured her that he would never replace Robb. “You need not fear for his safety, Lady Sansa” Aegon assures her with a grin. “I promise he shall return in one piece”

“I am sure you will”

“Are you happy with your marriage, Lady Sansa? I know Jon is dreadfully serious sometimes”

He walks in to hear the questions, and pauses, eager to know what she says. Things between them had grown into a comfortable friendship of sorts, though she still refused to speak of what happened to her after she fled the capital, and he had yet to tell her about being betrayed by his brothers.

“We are happy, Prince Aegon” She tells him quietly.

“Good” Aegon nods, “You have the Queen concerned over her lack of nieces and nephews to spoil, but if you are happy, I am sure you will have many children soon to come”

His Aunt had been writing to him for a few moons, questioning about possible heirs, but he had not yet told Sansa. He did not want to pressure her into anything, not to mention they hadn’t shared a bed since the capital, though gods knew he wanted to. Even sitting in the low light of the hearth, dressed in a simple grey gown, she was stunning, and clearly nervous with Aegon’s statement. He steps into the room then.

“Aegon” He greets, glaring at his brother.

“Ah, Jon, brother” Aegon grins, “Just telling Lady Sansa here about Dany’s concern over the prospect of a future niece or nephew, you have been married for nearly a year,”

“That is none of your concern” Jon replies tersely. “You did not ride all the way North for that, did you?”

“No, the Reach is rebelling,” Aegon, replies, standing from his chair.

“Rebelling?” She questions sharply, unable to control herself. Aegon looks a tad bit guilty. “You’re going to stop a rebellion? You said it was a slight discord”

“Aegon, I will meet you outside of the west gate in an hour,” Jon tells his brother.

“As you wish,” Aegon responds. He bows to her, “A pleasure seeing you again, Lady Sansa”

“Prince Aegon” She murmurs, slightly miffed about the slight lie he had told her.

“I need to get ready for the journey,” Jon tells her.

“May I walk with you, my lord?” She questions.

“Of course” He nods, a bit surprised.

They walk in silence to his chambers. Ghost is stretched out in front of the fire, covered in mud from their hunt earlier in the day. She stands in front of the hearth, for he has no other furniture save for his bed.

“I have to change,” He tells her.

“Okay,” She nods as she pats Ghost, who has sat up and nuzzled against her skirts. She does not leave though. She has seen him naked before, after all.

She watches as he pulls off his grey tunic and then undoes his damp breeches. It had been raining earlier in the day. 

“A rebellion is a serious thing,” She blurts out to distract herself from the sight of his near naked body. He looks at her in confusion.

“My lady?”

“A rebellion is dangerous” She replies, “And yet you and Aegon act as if it is nothing!”

“It is nothing” He assures her as he pulls on a dry shirt, one of black. He pulls on his blackened leather as well.

“A rebellion is not nothing!” She screeches, tossing her hands into the air. He was so dense sometimes. Ghost whimpers and leaves the room, like a common puppy.

“It will not be another war, my lady, you needn’t worry”

“It is not another war I worry about!” She angrily approaches him.

“If something does happen to me, you needn’t worry about having to leave Winterfell, my lady. Winterfell is still yours” He doesn’t understand why she is getting so emotional over this. Was she worried about her claim? Or the possibility of another war? She knew that Winterfell was hers by birthright. 

“A castle” She whispers, “Do you think I am still so vapid and shallow to worry over a simple castle, Jon?” She hasn’t used his first name in ages, not since the capital. It was always my lord or my prince. The use of his first name causes him to look down at her to gauge her emotions. Her blue eyes are wet with tears, and her face is fraught with fear. 

“Sansa?” He questions. 

“You look so much like him” She whispers, “And the last time he left Winterfell for the good of the realm and the crown, he never returned”

“Sansa” He sighs, gently rubbing placing his hand on her upper arm. “I promise I will come back”

“Promises” She huffs, “They promised it all would okay, that if I had him admit the truth of what he did, he would be sent to the Wall. They promised if I wrote to Robb and Mother it would be okay. They promised if I married him I would get away. He promised if I played my part, I’d get away, promised if I’d marry yet another I would go home. Promises are lies, Jon! They mean nothing, just sugary words to prey on the weak!” 

“Sansa,” He wraps his arms around her before she falls to the ground. They sink down together, him landing on his knees, her wrapped in his arms. 

“Please don’t go, Jon,” She begs between gasps of breath and sobs, “Please” He is at a loss at what to do. He doesn’t understand why she’s getting so upset over it. Yes, Ned Stark never came home, but this isn’t the same thing. And the things that she was saying, the words that had fallen unknowingly from her mouth in her pain.

She knows he will go though, because he is just like her father, honorable to a fault, just as Petyr used to say. 

So she kisses him, on the lips like she’s wanted to for ages. Because if he’s going to die, she wants to have kissed him at least once, even if he didn’t want it.

All his thoughts fade away when she presses her warm, wet mouth against his and threads her hands through his hair, holding him tightly in place. He doesn’t resist, he doesn’t have the strength. She’s warm and solid and real in his arms, something he had only ever dreamed about. They never kissed like this, only chaste kisses, like that at their wedding.

They both pull away, gasping for breath. 

“I’m sorry,” She whispers, going to stand. He grabs her hand before she can get to far, and pulls her back into his arms, pressing a softer kiss on her luscious lips.

“For what Sansa?” He questions. “For kissing your husband?”

“I know I disgust you, but I wanted to kiss you once before you left,” 

“Disgust?” He sputters, not quite processing her words, “You do not disgust me, Sansa”

“But you never claim your marital rights, you didn’t even want to on our wedding night because I wasn’t a maiden. You don’t have to play pretend Jon, I understand. I’m ruined”

“I thought you did not want it, Sansa, and I was loathe to hurt you further” He whispers, tucking a stray red curl behind her ear. His heart is soaring at the idea that she could possibly want to have him, that she wasn’t ashamed or frightened by him. “But you have never disgusted me, not once. Everything about you sets my blood alight. I can’t breathe some nights just thinking of you”

“For true?” She blushes slightly, her cheeks turning the slightest of red.

“For true” He nods. She smiles then, a real smile he hasn’t seen in ages, not since she was a little girl. Its hopeful and joyous, and just a tad bit playful.

“Then I should very much like to kiss you again” She admits. He laughs but instead of kissing her on the ground, drags her up into a standing position. He wraps one arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him, and the other winds up in her hair.

She thinks this is possibly the gentlest kiss she has ever received, and she loves every minute of it.

He pulls away far too soon.

“I will be back” He whispers, “And we are going to talk, really talk, okay?”

“Just talk?” She teases, her lips quirking up in a playful smile.

“Well, I suppose since I’ve been so neglectful in claim my martial rights, as you so eloquently put it, talking will be second on the agenda” He whispers, peppering kisses up her neck, nipping her ear with a playful growl. She shivers in his arms.

“You need to leave so that you can come back sooner” She whispers, breaking out of his arms. 

“I will come back to you, Sansa” He tells her, making sure not to use the word promise.

“I know” She nods.  
“Will you walk with me to the west gate?”

“Of course” she nods. He threads his hand through hers.

They exit the chambers and make their way towards the west gate. Her grip tightens as they get closer and closer to the gates. When they exit the main castle, the townsfolk, who yell their well wishes and prayers for his safe journey, meet them.

“I will be back in a sennight” He whispers as they approach the west gate, which is being blocked by the guards so that the townsfolk don’t get too close to the dragons that she knows will be right outside the wall.

“I will be waiting,” She answers as the guards part way to let them through. One of the guards pass him Long claw, which he sheathes immediately. She takes his traveling cloak from one of the squires and puts it on him herself, clasping the direwolf pin tightly, and smoothing it down for him.

Ghost joins them again, his tall wagging as he nudges his master’s legs. Jon bends and scratches his friend, knowing he can’t go with him.

“You be a good boy and watch out for Sansa, okay?” He questions as he pats the wolf. The wolf seems to understand, and breaks away from him, going to stand next to Sansa instead. “Good boy” Jon nods, standing again. 

“Will you wear my favor, my lord?” She questions with a small smile.

‘I would be honored” He replies. She takes a handkerchief from her sleeves. It is white silk and features six embroidered direwolf pups. He recognizes Ghost and Shaggy before she ties it tightly to the pommel of his sword.

“Safe travels, my lord”

“Safe keepings, my lady” He returns, pressing a kiss to her hand. She struggles to keep herself from crying as she watches him approach Viserion, and mount the great white beast. Ghost whispers as the dragon takes off, and disappears from sight. She threads her fingers through his fur.

‘He’ll be back, Ghost. He has to” She whispers.


	5. Chapter 5

A sennight passes, and he is not yet home. He sends a raven in which he writes that he may be gone a bit longer then expected. She sadly cancels the feast she had planned for his return, and writes back to him, expressing her desire to know when he will be home.

He writes again after a fortnight, and the news is grim. Apparently a slight rebellion was Aegon’s code for an all out blood bath in the Reach between the Redwyne's and the Tyrell’s. He says that he shall be gone a bit longer to handle it.

Another fortnight passes slowly before she receives his next raven. Each raven leaves her feeling worse and worse. It is brief and his writing looks rushed. He will not be home like he had thought.

Two full moons have passed before she receives the next raven, and she nearly weeps at the sight of it. She ignores the maester, who always reads the ravens first, and quickly breaks Jon’s familiar red direwolf seal.

“He’ll be back in a sennight,” She announces. “He is sure of it. Maester Samwell, we have a feast to plan”

A sennight turns into a fortnight, but eventually he returns.

She is sitting in her solar, reading the book on Valayrian as she has been for the past few weeks, when she hears a commotion in the yard. She rushes to the window, eager to know what is causing such a ruckus, when she sees the great white dragon descending from the sky.

“Jon” She whispers, and Ghost perks up from his spot in front of the fire. She runs in a manner that is not ladylike at all, racing towards the west gates. She realizes as her bare feet hit the muddy earth that she has forgotten to put her slippers and stockings back on, but she continues her path through the crowds that are forming.

A guard notices her and calls for a path to be made. They part at the sight of her, letting her race on. Any other time, she would be embarrassed by her unladylike actions, but she cannot seem to care. She has not seen Jon for nearly three moons, three moons that were spent in agonizing pain at not knowing if he would come home to her or not.

He dismounts Viserion with the aid of one of the household guards, who he immediately passes his sword and armor too. They have been uncomfortable the entire ride. He takes off his cloak as well, covered in grime and rain, and passes it to a squire.

Just as he passes away the muddy cloak, a commotion at the west gate draws his gaze. He grins as he watches Sansa race though the guards, and then stop suddenly when she noticed his attention. She nearly skids in the mud due to her haste.

“My lord” She pants breathlessly, curtseying. His smile widens when he realizes she is barefooted.

“My lady” He remarks.

“I am pleased to see you,” She tells him. “Welcome home”

“I am pleased to be home” He replies, stilling grinning at her. She cannot help the stupid grin that breaks out over her face. 

“Oh, Jon” She whispers, flinging herself at him. She cannot stand it any longer. She crashes into him, warm and solid. Her thin arms wrap around his neck and the scent of roses and lemons invade his senses.

“Sansa” He murmurs, wrapping his arms around her waist and hugging her tightly. “Did you miss me?” He teases with a gentle grin.

“No” she retorts, pulling back just to smile at him. Her smooth hands reach up to cup his face, “I did not miss you” She says softly, tears wetting her eyes though she smiled.

“Same” He answers, drawing her closer again, “Though I did miss your lips” He whispers, pressing his own quickly to hers.

“You are wet and cold, my lord. You need to change into something dry and warm before the feast. Llewellyn, fetch a maid to draw a hot bath for Prince Jon, and make sure the cooks are ready for a feast”

“Yes, my lady” The guard nods before leaving them.

“Berwyn, get Viserion some raw meat, he needs substance after such a long journey”

“Of course, my lady”

“And as for you, my lord, you will follow me”

“As my lady commands” He murmurs, following her as she leads him towards the castle.

 

As they enter his chambers, a nervous maid scurries out. The copper tub is steaming and filled with soap, along with clean linens arranged on his bed.

He bolts the door as she helps him with his soaked clothing, leaving it piled on the floor in a pile. When he is dressed in just his breeches and smallclothes, he cannot stand it any further. He grabs her by the waist and presses her against the wall, his lips eagerly searching hers out.

“Gods, I’ve missed you, Sansa,” He murmurs against the hollow of her neck.

“Jon” She whimpers, her hands tugging on his damp hair. “You need a bath first, you’re frozen and then the feast, aren’t you starving?”

“Starving, yes” He replies, drunk of her kisses and presence. She blushes but grins, catching his drift.

“For the food, Jon” She replies though she allows him to unlace her dress. He pulls it quickly off after that, and then her shift, leaving her naked.

“Food can wait,” He murmurs, tugging her towards the bed. They laugh as they fall into the furs in a heap.

“Prince Jon!” The master’s voice is loud and he bangs heavily against the door, “Jon, it is urgent!” He pulls away and she whimpers at the loss of contact.

“Sam” Jon shouts, “It can wait!” His lips go back to ravishing her neck with hot open mouthed kisses.

“It cannot, I swear it” 

He groans and gets out of the bed, and pulls his robe from the wardrobe.

“Stay there” He whispers with a grin, “I haven’t even started with you yet”

She grins back and pulls the furs up over her body to preserve the measter’s delicate eyes. He was a fragile one, Sam was, but smart.

“It better be bloody life threatening” Jon barks as he pulls open the door when he is certain she is covered completely.

“What is the meaning of this, Sam?” He questions a bit harshly. The portly maester is visibly trembling, “Sam” Jon barks.

“A direwolf” He manages to tell them. “A great black direwolf at the east gate”

“Is there anyone with him?” She is out of bed quickly, holding the furs tightly to her chest.

“We cannot tell, the wolf stays near the trees, but he is spooking the guards. One recalled that there was a black direwolf cub found with the rest”

“Rickon” Sansa whispers, reaching out for Jon who is standing next to her, “Jon, it has to be Shaggy”

“We will be there shortly,” Jon tells Sam. The maester nods and disappears. Jon pulls the door shut. She is already scrambling into her shift and dress, throwing on a pair of Jon’s huge boots to save her time from running to grab her own while he pulls on breeches and a tunic instead of his robe.

“It could be him, Jon,” She whispers, gripping his hand tightly. “It could be Rickon”

“I do not want you to get your hopes up, Sansa” he whispers, caressing her cheek, “We search far and wide for him after the war, him and Bran”

“I dreamt of him the other day, you know,” She admits, “Of him coming home”

“I dream of them too” He tells her, clasping his cloak around her shoulders. “Come, let us go and see”

“I won’t forgot what we’ve started, Jon” She whispers, “You have much to make up for”

“I look forward to it, my lady” He replies, gripping her hand in his own. They walk briskly to the east wing, and out into the cold air. Several guards are assembled at the gate, cowering up in the lookup. Ghost sits at the bottom, snarling and growling.

“Open the gate” Jon orders. 

“We can’t set foot on the ground, your grace. The wolf won’t allow it” One of the guards calls.

“Ghost, to me” Jon calls. The white wolf trots back, instantly calm in the presence of his master.

“Now, open the gates”

“Are you sure, your Grace?” One of the them questions, “The black wolf seems dangerous”

“No wolf can harm us, Torrhen” Sansa replies, “Open the gates, now”

“Yes, my lady”

The gates were pulled open slowly, the metal creaking in response to disuse. As soon as they were wide enough, Ghost runs forward, meeting the sprinting black wolf halfway. The two are like puppy dogs, tails wagging and playful nips as they roll around in the snow.

“Shaggy” Sansa whispers beside him. “It is him”

“There’s no one with him” Jon replies softly, saddened that Rickon had not turned up with the wolf.  
“He could be, let us go towards the trees” Jon grabs a torch from a guard and they make there way towards the dark outcropping of trees.

Shaggy and Ghost chase after them. Shaggy nudges them to the left a little, and they disappear into the trees.

Shaggy howls twice, and someone drops from the tree straight in front of them.

He’s a tall lad, covered in mud and filth. He wears wilding clothing that Jon easily recognizes and carries an axe like Ygritte once had. His hair is long and appears to be brown in the torchlight, but there is no doubting who this is.

He looks just like Robb had at that age, and his eyes are a perfect match to Sansa’s, who is now trembling beside him.

“Rickon?” She questions softly, “Are you Rickon Stark?”

“Yes” The boy answers in a raspy voice. Sansa sobs and throws herself at him, hugging him tightly. “Who are you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of this series is up! How Two Became Three will follow Rickon's assimilation into the family and Jon and Sansa's adjustment.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've decided to just make this one big ole story, no series nonsense or different fics. Chapter 6 is therefore what was formerly chapter one of "How Two Became Three". The next few chapters will focus on Rickon's return and Sansa/Jon actually acting like a married couple *wink wink* Comments and criticism always welcome!

“Who are you?” He asked, his blue eyes confused. “Are you my mother?”

“No, I’m Sansa,” She replied, pulling away. The boy had been just a babe of three when she had left for the capital, but she hoped he remembered her a bit.

“We have the same eyes” He replies. “Are we related?”

“Yes, I am your sister” She nodded. “Don’t you remember me?”

“No” He shook his head, “Is Bran here?”

“No” Jon replied since Sansa had started to quietly sob. “No, he’s not home yet”

“Who are you?”

“I’m Jon,” He stated as he helped Sansa to stand again. Rickon shook his hand with a strong grip.

“You’re my brother” Rickon stated with certainty. “You and Ghost”

“I was your brother, Rickon, I’m your cousin now” He sighed. Things were getting complicated, “How about we go into the castle, get you cleaned up and get some warm food into you? How does that sound?”

“I’m starving” Rickon stated. He bent down and picked up something from the ground, holding it out for them to see. It was a dead rabbit. “I just caught it,”

“Why don’t you give it to Shaggy and Ghost?” Sansa suggested quietly, “We have plenty of food inside”

Rickon shrugged and threw it towards the wolves, who eagerly dove for it, rolling around in the snow as they fought for the carcass. 

When they entered the main castle, they went towards Jon’s chambers. The bath was already there, cooler now, but still warm.

“Do you need help?” Sansa asked quietly. Rickon looked up and gave her a weird look.

“Help?” He questioned.

“That would be a no” Jon chuckled, “Come on, my lady, let him bathe in peace. Rickon, we are going to find you some clean clothing, okay? We’ll be back”

“Okay” Rickon nodded, already stripping out of his filthy clothing.

As soon as they were outside of the closed door, he pulled her into his arms. Sobs racked her thin frame as she wept.

“He doesn’t remember me,”

“Ssh, it’ll be okay. At least he’s here and he’s safe”

“I cannot believe it, truly” She admitted. “I did not want to let him bathe alone, lest he disappear”

“He will be fine” He assured her, “All that matters is that he is here, Sansa”

“I suppose it is silly to believe that a three year old would remember you” She admitted.

“It’s not silly” He told her, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Come on, we need to find him something to wear”

“I need to cancel the feast again” She sighed. “He can’t be exposed to that many people yet, and we need to have chambers set up for him,”

“Don’t cancel it” Jon told her, “Let them enjoy it. We can have another when Rickon is ready”

She set off to find the maester and the steward to tell them of the change in plans while he left to find Rickon some clothing.

A half and hour later, they met up outside his door. Jon knocked against the thick wood. 

“Rickon? Are you done bathing?” He asked. Rickon pulled open the door, completely naked.

“Yes” He nodded while Jon covered her eyes and looked down in amusement at his former half brother. He did not seem bothered by the fact he was naked.

“Get those on, buddy” Jon told him. “You can’t walk around naked”

“Osha told me you guys would be strict,” He grumbled as he stepped into the breeches, completely disregarding the smallclothes Jon had also procured. He unshielded Sansa’s eyes when the breeches were tied.

“Who is Osha, Rickon?” Sansa questioned.

“She raised me” Rickon replied, “I called her mother, but she said I couldn’t call her that with you”

“You can call her whatever you would like” Sansa told him softly. “She raised you, it is only fair that you call her mother”

“She said I had a lady mother” Rickon scrunched up his nose. “That it would dishonor her memory. Is she dead too?”

“She died with our brother, Robb” Sansa told him gently. “You would have only been four or five at the time”

“I’m nine now” Rickon stated proudly, “Can I eat that?” He questioned, pointing to the tray the maid had just brought in.

“Why don’t we sit down and eat, and then you can tell us about Osha and where you have been living” Jon suggested. Rickon nodded if only to get to the food. It was set up on the table in the corner; there were only two chairs too. Rickon grabbed a plate and piled meat on it, sitting in the furs on the ground.

He tore into it with his bare hands, smearing the sauce and juices everywhere.

“We will have to teach you manners” Sansa tutted as she prepared her own plate, sitting gently on the seat. 

“Manners?” Rickon questioned, his mouth full of food. “Osha told me about those”

“She taught you to speak well” Jon commented. His brother spoke better then Arya had at that age.

“Ser Davos taught me” Rickon told them, “Osha said you would know him”

“You met Ser Davos?” Jon questioned, shocked.

“His ship sunk near the island. We found him near death on the rocks. He said he was looking for me”

“So you were on Skaggo’s”

Rickon nodded.

“Where is he? Did he come with you?”

“No, he died with Osha”

“I am sorry, Rickon” Sansa stated solemnly.

“For what?” Rickon questioned, taking a huge bite out of his slab of meat.

“For their death”

“Why?” Rickon shrugged, “They died fighting”

Sansa, sensing the cultural divide on that topic, kept her mouth shut.

“I knew Ser Davos” Jon told him, “He went to Skaggo’s to look for you on my orders”

“How did you get here, Rickon?” Sansa questioned.

“I stole a raft,” Rickon told them. “Osha told me to”

“She was alive before you left?” Sansa questioned, to which Rickon nodded, “Then how do you know she is dead?”

“Because she helped me leave, and they killed her for it” Rickon replied, “They wanted to kill me because of Shaggy”

“What did he do?”

‘Nothing” Rickon replied, “But Ser Davos called it warging, I think. It wasn’t spoken about in the old tongue, that’s the language I spoke first”

“You can warg into Shaggy” Jon whispered in awe. He could do it on occasion with Ghost, and sometimes-even Viserion, but he had never heard someone speak of it with such little care.

“Yeah” Rickon shrugged again as if it were nothing. 

“Do you remember what happened when you left Winterfell, Rickon?” Sansa asked, “How did you survive”

“I don’t know’ He shrugged, “But Osha gave me a letter for you. Ser Davos helped her write it”

“Where is it?” Jon questioned. Rickon pointed to his pile of dirty clothing. Jon stood and made his way over to the pile, and picked up the cloak, pulling a damp letter from the folds. He pocketed it.

“Later” Was all he said.

 

For the next few hours, they told Rickon everything, how the war started, how they got split up, who his family was, everything. The nine year old was surprisingly unaffected by it. Sansa thought it strange, while Jon recognized that the little boy was now more wilding then “kneeler”. When Rickon yawned loudly, Sansa immediately stood.

“You have had a long journey, brother,” She told him, “You need rest. Jon and I will show you to your rooms”

“Rooms?” Rickon scrunched his nose again, “Inside?”

“Lords sleep in castles,” He reminded him.

“Fine”

They led him down a few doors to the chambers they had set up. There was a guard outside the door.

“Rickon, this is Ser Jerold. If you need anything, ask him, okay?”

‘I don’t need a watcher” Rickon replied.

“We all have guards at our doors, Rickon” Jon stated. “He won’t bother you, and tomorrow, maybe you can persuade him to teach you to use a steel sword. Would you like that?”

“A sword?” He questioned, vaguely interested. While his axe was good quality amongst wildling weapons, a sword was far superior even in the eyes of the wildings.

“If you want”

“Alright” He shrugged, though they could see the excitement in his eyes.

“Goodnight, Rickon” Sansa whispered, bending to hug him tightly. Jon motioned for him to hug her back behind her, and Rickon did so with a little hesitance. When she pulled away with tears in her eyes, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Sweet dreams, little brother”

“Goodnight, Sansa” Rickon replied a bit formally. “Jon”

“See you tomorrow, Rickon”

With Rickon safely in his room, they departed for the solar, intent on reading the letter Rickon had delivered. Jon broke the simple wax seal and unfolded the thick parchment.

“To the Lord and Lady of Winterfell, if you have received this, then the little lordling has reached you, and we are dead,” He read aloud. “I shall begin in the beginning as is custom. You do not know me, but I knew your elder brother, King Robb. We met in the woods and he spared my life, giving me honest work in the halls of your castle. As you are aware, the war began, and enemy forces eventually took Winterfell. We survived by hiding in the crypts, myself, Lord Rickon, Lord Brandon, Hodor, and the two children from House Reed, only to emerge to find Winterfell in shambles. On the dying advice of Luwin, we split up. I took the little lord to White Harbor, while the others traveled North in some quest to find answers beyond the Wall. After a few moons, we left for Skaggo’s, where we have lived ever since. When word reached us by Ser Davos, we began planning on sending the little lordling back when a Stark ruled Winterfell again. A few moons ago, we received our confirmation, and readied him for departure. At the last second, his ability became known, and we were taken hostage. As I write this, we are preparing to sneak him away, which will result in our certain death,”

He took a breath to continue reading.

“The little lordling is a good boy, despite his wild nature. Without proper guidance, he will be as wild as his wolf. Beware the black beast as he nips sometimes. The little lordling is a strong hunter and enjoys hunting and riding. He hates brushing his hair, and he won’t admit it, but he enjoys the stories of knight’s that Ser Davos has told him”

“That was written by Davos for Osha, the wildling woman that raised him” Jon told her, “Ser Davos writes at the end that it was an honor to serve the rightful king, and to please send notice to his wife and children of his death”

“Bran’s alive then, as are Meera and Jojen Reed”

“And Hodor” Jon chuckled to himself, “Hodor survived”

“Hodor” She sighed, then giggled. “Oh, gods, I had forgotten about him. All he ever said was Hodor”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence as they both recalled the people mentioned in Osha’s letter. It answered a lot of questions for them, but it left many empty as well. They had no idea where Bran and the rest of them ended up.

“We should write to Lord Reed to inform him of this” Sansa stated quietly. Howland Reed had been the one to confirm Jon’s parentage. They trusted the man, and now they had to deliver such news.

“Tomorrow” Jon sighed, “It’s been a long day, and we will have many longer days to come”

“Do you think he’ll adjust?”

“It will take time, but yes, I think he will” Jon stood and offered her his hand. She gripped it tightly and allowed him to pull her to her feet.

“Gods, I am exhausted,” She told him as they walked down the corridor.

“I could say the same myself” He replied.

“I still want to hear about your journey, my lord” She told him as they approached her chambers.

“Tomorrow, my lady. Tonight, we sleep” Outside the door, he placed a kiss upon her forehead and bade her a goodnight. He walked down to his own chambers and disappeared, leaving her feeling bereft. 

She entered her chambers and stripped out of her gown with the help of her maid. She dressed in her silk nightgown, and had the maid plait her hair into one long braid. She dismissed the girl with her thanks, and sat heavily on her bed.

She was tired, but she did not wish to sleep alone. Mustering her courage, she grabbed her dressing gown from the wardrobe, and tied it around her waist. She made her way to the connecting door and slowly pushed it open.

“Jon?” She questioned softly. She could see his outline under the blankets and furs in the bed. He appeared to be asleep already. She lifted the bed coverings gently, and slid into the warm cocoon careful not to wake him. 

In the soft light of the fire, he looked younger then he had earlier in the day. The hard lines on his face were smooth and without his serious grey eyes peeking out at her, he looked more like the young man of 21 he was supposed to be. She reached forward and twined her fingers through his so that their clasped hands rested in front of them.

To her surprise, he pulled her closer so that she was tucked under his chin, his breath warm on her skin. His breathing stayed even though, and he continued to sleep.

Eventually she too drifted off, letting the darkness claim her.


	7. Chapter 7

She was jolted from a peaceful slumber by the pounding against Jon’s door. Jon stayed peacefully unaware of the banging and slept on. She extracted herself from the bed careful not to wake Jon.

She grabbed her dressing gown and tied it around her waist.

“My prince-” The guard stopped short at the sight of her, “I mean, uh, my lady-” He stuttered.

“What is it, Berwyn?” She questioned, stepping out of the room so that their noise would not wake Jon.

“Lord Rickon wishes hunt for his breakfast,”

“What time is it, Berwyn?”

“Just past dawn”

“When did he wake?”

“He was awake before the sun. The guards caught him climbing the south wall”

“Where is he now?”

“On top of the south wall”

“He’s still there?”

“He refuses to get down”

“Stay here and make sure no one wakes the prince. He has had a long journey. Least we could do is give him a few more hours of peace”

“Yes, my lady”

 

She went to the South Wall in her dressing gown. Not many people would be awake, not that she cared.

Rickon was sitting on the wall in the clothes they had sent him to bed in, with the addition of a cloak that he must have brought with him. It appeared to be made from the hide of many animals. His axe was hung over his shoulder. Shaggy was at the base of the wall, growling at the guards.

He was perched lightly on the stones, looking as if one strong gust would knock him over. Her heart raced as she took sight of him.

“Sansa!” He smiled as she approached, waving, “Are you to go hunting with me?”

“No” She shook her head, approaching shaggy who slowly stopped his growling, “We do not hunt for our food every meal, Rickon” She told loudly. “Why don’t you come down here?”

“The guards will take me back” He told her, “I don’t want to go back to my room”

“You don’t have to. We can eat breakfast together in a different room”

“How do you eat if you haven’t hunted?”

“We hunt then store it,” She explained, “So that we do not have to hunt every morning”

“But I have not hunted” He protested.

“Others have though, we still have plenty stored”

“I eat what others have hunted?”

“Yes” She nodded, “Come down and we can break our fasts in my solar”

“Fine” He called back. He jumped down easily, using a few handholds to lessen his impact. She nearly lost her breath at the sight of him. He moved deftly and appeared skilled at climbing, but the memory of Bran’s fall would always haunt her.

“Where is Jon?” Rickon questioned as they started towards the castle proper.

“He is still abed”

“Abed?” Rickon asked in confusion, “The sun is up”

“Yes it is”

“He should be awake,” Rickon told her, “It is a sign of weakness to sleep this late”

“He had a long journey yesterday” She told him, “Mayhap I will tell you the story if you behave while eating”

Rickon grumbled but continued to walk with her. When they reached her solar, she sent one of her maids to fetch their breakfasts. Rickon immediately took the plush seat by the fire, marveling at its shape and texture. 

“Come sit by me, Rickon” She told him, patting the spot on the sofa next to her. Rickon abandoned his plush seat and ambled over. “Tell me about yourself” She begged of him.

“Of myself?” He shrugged, “I hunt, I eat, I sleep” 

“What do you do for fun?”

“Hunt”

“With the axe?” She questioned.

“Osha was going to teach me to use a bow, but she never did” He told her.

“Mayhap Jon will teach you. He is as skilled with a longsword as he is with a bow”

‘Can he wield an axe?” Rickon questioned.

“I know not,” She told him in truth. “But he is a skilled fighter, just as our father and our brother were”

“Not so skilled if they’re dead” Rickon told her carelessly.

“You will not speak of them like that” She told him sharply, “They were betrayed by honor, both of them. They did not die due to a lack of skill but because they were honorable men, as you will be if you are lucky”

“How did Robb die?” Rickon questioned. They had told him the basics last night, but hadn’t gone into details with the nine year old.

“There is a custom in Westoros, that of the bread and salt, that ensures a guests right of passage in someone’s home. If the bread and salt are consumed together, then you have promised them safe keepings while they are in your home, or lands, or castle,” She explained, “Robb and mother were given the guest right but they were betrayed. Lord Walder Frey ambushed them at the wedding feast, trapping them without their weapons or armor,”

“Yes, but how did they die?” He questioned, “A sword? An arrow? An axe?”

“Why does it matter?”

Rickon shrugged.

“I just want to know,” He told her. “I don’t remember them, I don’t remember you or Jon. All I remember is Bran and Meera and Jojen and Hodor”

“You were only three, Rickon” She told him softly. “I was eleven and my memories of them are already fading. If you wish, we can visit the crypts later, there are stone carvings of their likeness over their graves”

“I want to” He told her, “Will you tell me Jon’s story now? I ate neatly” He did managed to get food all around his face, but at least it stayed on his person and not all over the furniture and ground. And he had chewed with his mouth shut.

“Jon is nephew to the Dragon Queen, Daenerys Targaryen…”

An hour later, after regaling Rickon with most of the Targaryen family history and Jon’s part in it, she took the nine year old to Maester Samwell to see if he could read or write or do sums. She had a feeling he could write the basics and mayhap read a tad bit, but she wasn’t too hopeful. She would have to make a schedule with the maester for lessons.

“I don’t want to learn to read” Rickon grumbled as frowned at the large volume, “I want to learn to use a sword”

‘You are a lord, Rickon, a Stark of Winterfell. You must learn to read and to write so that you can deal with your people’s petitions and issues. You will rule a household some day, you need to know how to be a lord” She told him softly, “At least, that is what I should be telling you. But I am not going to force you to do anything you don’t want”

“Really?”

‘To a degree” She amended, “You will learn to be a lord and Jon will teach you to use whatever weapons you wish so long as he knows how to use them, and if not, we will find a master to teach you. Anything you wish to learn, we will provide, but you must still keep up with your studies. When you reach the age of ten and six, when a boy becomes a man in Westerosi custom, then you may decide what you wish to do with your life” She paused to look at him, “So if you wish to learn to use an arrow, then you must also learn to read”

“And a sword?”

“Then you must learn to write”

“And riding?”

“You must learn your sums”

“Deal” Rickon told her.

“Good” She nodded, “Then I will leave you here with Maester Sam for your first lesson. Tomorrow, if he is able, Jon shall begin his own lessons”

She left Rickon with the maester and made her way towards Jon’s chambers. There was a guard positioned outside of the door, though he let her through when she approached.

Jon was still abed, sleeping peacefully with his mouth agape. She smiled at the endearing sight. 

She slipped out of her slippers and gown, leaving her in just a shift. Careful to not disturb him, she lifted the thick furs and slid in next to him.

He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her tight against his chest.

“Mhm” He mumbled against her neck, “I was wondering where you went”

“Rickon” She told him with a sigh.

“Let’s not talk about Rickon right now” He told her, his hands dipping lower to rest on the curve of her hips. His lips pressed hot kisses to her neck, causing heat to pool in the pit of her stomach. 

“Mhmm” She moaned, turning so that she could kiss him properly. His hand drifted to her buttock and pulled her flush against him. She could feel him pressed hard against her core.

“You’re wearing too much cloth” He mumbled, his hands struggling to rid her of her thin shift. She helped him out, pulling the shift over her head, sending her curls askew. He reached up and pushed them back, leaning forward to capture her lips once more. 

"Now you're overdressed" She mumbled against his lip, dipping lower to press kisses to his neck and chest as her nimble hands worked on the ties of his breeches. She was pleased that he wore no shirt to sleep, for it was much easier without it. When she had them untied and loose, he flipped them so that she was on the bottom and he was on top. She eased them down his muscled legs, trying not to let her eyes drift to where she most wanted to look. He seemed to get her dilemma and chuckled.

"You may look if you wish" He told her, "I'm certainly enjoying looking at you"

On the night of their wedding, she had kept her eyes averted. But now as she looked over him, she found herself wondering why. He was built like the Warrior himself with thickly corded muscles that were surprisingly gentle. His hair, which had grown long with the rebellion, hung over his face, begging her to run her fingers through it. His eyes were gentle, looking at her softly in a way that she could not properly describe. As she drank him in, he draw his hand to her face, cupping her cheek with a gentle hand. His thumb caressed her soft skin.

"Do you want this?" He questioned softly. She knew that if she said she wanted to wait, he would. She knew he would do whatever she asked of him. But she wanted this, she wanted him.

"I want you"


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for some more fluff ahead and then drama because it is a GOT fic and GOT is filled with drama. Let me know what you think and happy reading!

“Jon?” She whispers from his chest, her nimble hands idly playing with the coarse hair of his chest.

“Mhmm?” He murmurs, his mind slipping into the dream like state it always did after lying with Sansa. It was impossible not to feel content with her in his arms especially after several rounds. Sansa seemed to have an inordinate amount of energy, something that brought them both pleasure, but right now he wanted to sleep.

“Are you falling asleep?” She questioned.

“Maybe” He replied.

“I wanted to talk,” She tells him.

“What about?” He replies. If it was about Rickon, who was steadily improving upon his manners, it could surely wait.

 

“After the Landing” She tells him, “What happened to me after father died”

“You don’t have to tell me, Sansa,” He tells her softly, pulling her up higher against his chest so that he can see her eyes.

“I want to” She reaches up and caresses the side of his cheek, her thumb circling his lips. “Promise you won’t be angry at me”

“With you? Never” He promised. He wrapped an arm around the back of her shoulders, holding her tightly to his chest, as she began her tale.

She told him first of Joffrey and how he used to have her beaten and nearly raped. She told him of watching father die and having to denounce him and Robb as traitors. She told about the Hound and his twisted honor, and how Tyrion had never forced himself upon her.

If Joffrey Lannister were still alive, he’d have killed him himself. He would have him receive tenfold the punishments Sansa did, and then do it again. And again. He would show the incestuous king no mercy, just as he had shown Sansa.

He didn’t think it would get worse then that, but he was wrong.

And then she told him how she escaped, how Lord Baelish had smuggled her to the Vale to their Aunt Lysa. She told him how she was called Alayne, but how Littlefinger always called her Cat. She told him about his touches and his kisses, his lingering looks. She told him how Baelish had taught her all that he knew, all the tricks and tips to get whatever you wanted, how to play people and win the game of thrones, as she called it.

He gripped her tighter, as if trying to keep her from remembering the past, when she told him how she lost her maidenhead to her second husband, Harold Hardying. And when he died, how Baelish had married her to rule the Vale.

“And then Jaime and Brienne showed up and they showed me the sword and the letter from my mother. It still bore the seal of House Stark,” She whispered. “SoI left with them”

“And Baelish?”

“Dead” She whispered.

“It’s okay,” He murmured, “It’s okay, Sansa”

“I thought I would die in those mountains, married to a man that thought I was my mother”

“I have never once thought of Lady Catlyn when I was with you” He told her seriously. She gave a choked laugh.

“Thank the gods” She whispered.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you, Sansa, not anymore” He pulled her up and kissed her on the lips, “I promise”

She didn’t bother to correct him on her opinion of promises. She kissed him back instead, threading her fingers through his thick curls.

The next morning when he woke, Sansa was facing him, still peacefully asleep. Her head rested on his arm, her mouth agape and slightly drooling. Her hair, which he had unplaited so that he could run his hands through her curls, was in complete disarray around her. The tips of her left hand rested on his chest while the right was gripped around his upper arm.

In the light of the morning he could just barely make out the scars on her back and her torso.

He carefully extracted himself from the bed, leaving her to curl up with his pillow in his stead. He got dressed in light breeches and a tunic before stealing out of the room and towards Rickon’s.

The young boy was sharpening his wooden spear on his bed, dressed in nothing but his breeches.

“Jon!” Rickon seemed surprised to see him so early, “Are we training today?”

“Yes, get dressed. I’ll meet you in the yard”

“Yes!” Rickon cheered, already searching for his boots. He left his eager little cousin in his chambers and makes way towards the kitchens to grab something for Rickon and him, and to have honeyed lemon cakes sent to Sansa.

“My prince” Sam greeted.

‘I’ve told you before, Sam” He told him with a sigh. His best friend didn’t have to call him such formal titles.

“Habit” Sam told him with a full mouth of breakfast scone, “So, you planning anything big for next fortnight?”

“In 2 weeks?” He questioned in confusion. He didn’t know what was in 2 weeks. Sansa’s name day had passed many moons ago, his still had another two moons, and Rickon’s was half a year ago.

“You forgot” Sam chuckled. “You really forgot”

“Forgot what?”

“How long have you been married, Jon?” Sam questioned, still grinning.

“A year” He realized, “A year in a fortnight”

“Right you are” Sam told him, clapping his back, “Better start planning”

“Damnit, Sam. You’re a lifesaver”

“Doing my duty” He replied, “Even made sure the steward had plenty of lemons ordered”

“I don’t know how to thank you,” He admitted. He would have been the worst husband in the world had he forgotten their first wedding anniversary. It marked a big year for them as well, with Winterfell and Rickon.

“I do have a favor to ask” Sam admitted, “The little monster wants to learn to fight”

“Done” He answered, “Send him to the yard today, the lesson will be short though. I have a feast to plan”

“Shall I tell the steward to clear his schedule?” Sam questioned, looking at him incredulously.

“No, but can you have Gilly and Sansa’s handmaiden delivered to my chambers at noon?”

“Of course” Sam nodded. “And what about Lady Sansa?”

“I will have Rickon distract her after lessons”

“Good luck, brother” Sam muttered as he left the kitchen, his grin still in place. He would show Sam.

He had to.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More fluff! Enjoy!

He had no idea where to even begin. Gilly, despite being a girl, was a wilding and knew nothing about planning an event or what women like Sansa would want. Her handmaiden was much more helpful, though it was still lacking.

He decided he would have to ask his Aunt and brother.

He found Rickon as he was racing through the hallways, searching for Shaggy. He caught him by the scruff of his tunic and turned him around.

“Jon!” Rickon whined.

“Lords do not run,” He told him.

“My apologies, your Grace” Rickon replied with a roll of his eyes. To their surprise, he had caught onto the manners quite well, but had somehow picked up on sarcasm as well.

“Do you want to take a ride on a dragon?” He questioned. Rickon’s jaw dropped.

‘Yes! Please, Jon, yes!” Rickon jumped up and down in excitement.

“Good” He told him, “Go grab your thickest coat and your boots”

Rickon raced off, Shaggy forgotten.

He made his way towards Sansa’s solar, where he assumed she would be. He knocked gently, waiting for her to call back for him to enter.

She pulled the door open herself though, pulling him into the room and pushing him against the wall.

“How did you know it was me?” He questioned against her soft lips.

“I didn’t” She replied, kissing him to shut him up. He flipped them so that she was pinned against the wall, his lips now attacking her neck as she shamelessly pressed herself closer and wiggled her hips.

“I can’t stay long”

“Won’t take long,” She murmured, her hands already unlacing his breeches. 

Not long after, she laced them back up, a satisfied smile on her face.

“Were you bored, my lady?” He questioned as he fixed the laces on her gown that he had disturbed.

“Dreadfully” She replied, leaning into him. She turned, gesturing to the piles of parchment she had stacked on her desk, “I was hoping you would visit. Was there something you needed?”

“I’m going to take Rickon to the capital for the night” He told her.

“The whole night?”

“It is time the Queen met him, and he desperately wishes to ride a dragon,”

“But the capital” She whispered, her brow fraught with worry.

“He will be safe with me, Sansa” He assured her. “Do you not trust me?”

“Of course I trust you”

“Then we will be back before breakfast, I swear it”

Daenerys

She was sitting in the throne room, listening to someone drone on and on about some injustice or something of like, when the guards came rushing in.

“Prince Jon and his dragon have been spotted near the enclosure, your Grace” One of the men told her. 

“Jon?” She questioned in confusion and sight alarm. She hadn’t seen him since he dashed back to the North after the squashed the rebellion.

“Yes, your Grace”

“Call for Aegon” She told him, “And have the prince brought here. All petitions will be suspended until the morrow”

“Yes, your Grace”

Ten minutes later, Jon walked in with a young boy that was bouncing on the soles of his feet, chattering on about dragons.

“Aunt Dany” Jon bowed.

“Jon” She greeted with a smile, “What brings you here without notice?”

“Purely social, I assure you. May I present Lord Rickon Stark? Rickon, this is the Queen, Daenerys Targaryen”

“Ah, the youngest Stark” She recalled.

“Your Grace” Rickon bowed stiffly. 

“Welcome to the capital, Lord Stark”

“Thank you, your Grace” Rickon told her, “It is quite warm here” 

“That is it, brother’ Jon ruffled his hair, “Enough formalities, I need your help, Aunt”

Sansa

She gave up on the ledgers and doing the sums and pulled out her latest sewing project. She was making a cloak for Jon, for their first year anniversary. 

It was sable black, soft as sin and as warm as a raging fire. She had gotten the blacksmith to create a unique clasp for it, a dragon and a wolf that interlocked. He had given them to her earlier in the day so that she could affix them to the cloak.

“My lady?” One of the guards peeked his head into the room, “The Maester wishes to speak with you”

“Send him in” She tucked in her stitch and placed the cloak carefully on her desk. Maester Samwell ambled in, bowing clumsily as he always did. Even now, he was still intimidated by her it seemed.

“My lady” He greeted.

“Maester Samwell” She acknowledged, “Is there a problem?”

“I wished to speak with you on behalf of Lord Rickon’s” He told her.

“I thought he was doing well”

“He is, yes” Sam nodded, “But it is not his skill at his lessons which concerns me, but his, well, I believe he is lonely, my lady”

“Lonely?” She questioned in surprise, “What do you mean?”

“From what Jon and you yourself have told me, you both grew up with a few others your age, siblings, friends, etc. Lord Rickon does not have the same companionship. He has you and Jon, of course, but I think he needs someone closer to his own age,”

“There is no one of age with him in all of Wintertown” She realized. Children his age did not survive winter as readily as those that were older did.

“Aemon is five, and a fine friend, but I believe Lord Rickon would benefit from someone closer in age” Aemon, the son of the wildling the maester had fallen for, was a wild little boy, much like Rickon. But Sam was right, Rickon needed more companionship from those his own age. “The only times he acts out are when there is no one around to entertain him, or simply keep him company”

She thought back to the few incidences they had had since Rickon arrived, and realized that the Maester was right. He acted out mostly when she and Jon were both together without him, or whenever Jon had to cancel their sword lessons for household duties.

“And what do you suggest, Maester Sam?”

“I believed Lord Glover has a son around Rickon’s age, and perhaps one of Lord Manderley’s grandsons would do”

“I suppose you are right” She agreed, “I will write to them on the morrow regarding it,”

“I believe it shall make a great difference, my lady” Sam told her with another clumsy bow, “I shall take my leave now”

“Oh, wait a moment” She called, “Tell me what you think of this” She held up the cloak, showing him the clasp.

“For Prince Jon?”

“Yes”

“It is very handsomely made, my lady”

“It just seems so impersonal, you know?” She sighed, “Do you think he will like it?”

“I am sure that he will”

“Of course he will, he’s Jon. He could hate it and he would tell me it was a fantastic gift, just to preserve my feelings”

“He would, my lady” Sam agreed, “If I might make a suggestion though”

“Of course, I welcome anything advice” She told him. Perhaps he had some insight on what Jon would want, they were quite close after all.

“Do not embroider it too much” Sam advised her, “While he is partial to some design, most of it he dislikes”

“I shall take note,” She told him; thankful she hadn’t started embroidering the back of it. Perhaps she would embroider it with black thread, so that it blended well but he would still know that it was there. “Thank you, Maester Sam. Have a pleasant evening”

“And you, my lady” He replied, leaving her solar.

She put the cloak away again and picked up the rest of her sewing. She had a dozen tunics and breeches of Rickon’s to repair it seemed. He was constantly ripping seems and slicing tears through them. Jon was no better. 

She waited until she could no longer keep herself awake to leave her solar. She had no wish to go to an empty bed, but she wasn’t about to fall asleep in her solar. 

She stood and stretched, blowing out the candles on her desk and the fireplace. 

“You are up late, my lady” The guard commented as he escorted her down the halls.

“There is much to do around here, ser” She told him.  
“You work too hard, my lady,” He told her with a grin.

“And the rest of you, too little” She teased, “I thank you for escorting me, Berwyn”

“Doing my little work” He quipped, “With your leave, my lady”

“Of course” She did not bother to bar the door to Jon’s chambers. There would be two guards outside of it all night after all. 

The hearth was low and the bed was empty. Ghost had abandoned her as well it seemed. She did not bother to call for a handmaid. She simply stripped out of her garments and slid into the cool bed, naked as her name day.

The furs and the pillows on the right side smelt of pine and leather, a scent uniquely Jon. She curled up against them, breathing him in.

As she drifted off, she could almost imagine that he was right there with her.

Jon

True to his word, they arrived in the middle of the night. Rickon was fast asleep against him, despite his previous energy. He dismounted the dragon and carried Rickon carefully towards the gates.

They pulled them up after a second, one of the guards rushing forth to take Rickon from him.

“Is Lady Sansa awake?”

“She retired an hour ago” One of them replied.

“Thank you” He replied, “Take Lord Rickon to his chambers. Just remove his boots and cloak, he can sleep like that”

“Yes, your Grace”

He made his way to his chambers, hoping that she would be in his bed rather then her own. The guards nodded to him as he entered the unbarred door. He barred it behind him; no one else need enter after all.

Sansa was asleep on his side of the large bed, hugging his pillow to her chest. He smiled to see it. The furs were pulled up to her chin but by the puddle of silk on the stone beneath him, he knew her to be naked. He stripped down himself, leaving his roughspun breeches on of her precious silk and lace pieces. He curled up behind her, wrapping his arms around her bare waist, pulling her flush against him.

“Jon?” She murmured sleepily, turning so that she faced him. Her eyes blinked blearily.

“Mhmm” He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Missed you” She mumbled

“I tried to wait for you,” She murmured, pressing a lazy kiss to his chest, “Too tired”

“Go to sleep then, Sansa” He whispered, holding her closer as she settled comfortably against his upper arm.

She was beautiful, and not just in looks. Yes, the slope of her nose and the set of her eyes and the color and waves of her hair made for a pretty picture, but it was what was underneath those things that truly made her beautiful. Whenever he watched her sleep that always struck him. He had no idea how she could remain so kind and courteous after all that had happened to her. Yes, she could put up a barrier and don a mask like no other, hiding herself from the world, but ever since the rebellion in the reach, she had remained open to him, loving and kind and compassionate. She was perfect to him. 

‘I love you, my sweet Sansa” He whispered softly as he did nearly every night when she was fast asleep. They hadn’t said it aloud yet, and he didn’t want to her to pull away, but he loved her. He loved her more then he had ever thought possible. He knew that she loved him as well, but words, well words made it official. Words made them vulnerable to others, and Sansa hated to be vulnerable.

So he whispered it when she was fast asleep, and prayed that perhaps some night she would hear him, and whisper it back.


	10. Chapter 10

She woke up to an empty bed. Her limbs felt like limp steel but there was a delicious ache between her legs. She grinned as she rolled over and buried her head against Jon’s pillow. Instead of smelling like leather and pine though, like Jon usually did, all she smelt was flowers.

“What the-” She sat up and gasped. She wasn’t in Jon’s bed after all, but her own. She hadn’t remembered moving or even being moved.

“Good morning, my lady” Her handmaiden greeted with a wide smile. She was sitting on the ottoman, a breakfast tray already prepared.

“What is going on, Sara?” She questioned, “How did I end up here?”

‘I don’t know what you mean, my lady” She replied “I have a gown laid out for you, my lady” Sara told her, “And a warm bath”

“Already? You were prepared this morning” She remarked.

“The Prince wished it” She replied. “Come now, before the water cools”

“Thank you, Sara,” She told her, getting out of her bed, wondering why on earth Jon was up to.

Surely this wasn’t because of their anniversary. She hadn’t expected Jon to remember in truth.

The bath was filled with rose oil and essence of lemon and vanilla, her favorite scents. It was warm too, from the hot springs no doubt. Once she was dried, Sara helped her into a new shift that she had never seen before. It was made of the softest silk she had ever felt and was black instead of her usual white or grey. Sara pulled and pinned her hair until it was perfect and then went to get her dress.

Sara surprised her further by pulling out a red, grey, and black gown that she had never seen before, just like the slip. It was high necked and very Targaryen looking. The grey material resembled scales across the black, while the red peeked out at the bottom when she walked.

“Where did you get this?”

“Tis a gift from the Queen” Sara admitted. “You are ready my lady. Shall I walk you to the Prince’s solar?”

“No, I can manage on my-” She was interrupted by a knock on her door.

“I’ll get it” Sara raced off, smiling again. She knew something.

“Your Grace” She heard Sara say before the door was shut and Sara was gone. She turned to find Jon standing there with a wrapped parcel in his hands. He was dressed surprisingly informal compared to her gown and coiffure Sara had produced. In fact, he looked like he was about to go to battle or spar save for the fact he had a crown on his head.

“Jon, what is going on?” She questioned in confusion.

“I have a gift for you,” He told her, passing her the heavy parcel. She opened the strings carefully, gasping at the sight. It was a steel tiara with rubies and onyx stones. It carved like two dragons soaring, meeting in the middle with the fire like rubies. “And a favor to ask of you,”

“A favor?” She questioned, still looking at the tiara, “And why do I need a tiara?”

“Because you are my wife and I am a prince,” He told her, nestling it on her elaborate hairstyle. It fit between the braids perfectly, like Sara had known. “And a favor because I should like to wears yours for luck”

“A favor for luck? Jon, what in seven hells is going on?”

‘Curses, my lady, I am shocked” He teased. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in for a knee weakening kiss, “So about that favor”

‘Tell me what it is for” 

“What are favors always for?” He retorted, “Humor me, dearest Sansa”

“If I must,” She told him with a grin. Instead of going to her vanity to grab a ribbon or a kerchief, she went to her linen draw instead and withdrew a pair of her smallclothes, the fancy ones the Queen had gifted her for her name day that were from Essos.

“How long have you had these?” Jon questioned in open surprise as he stared at the lacy, colorful garments, “And why have I never seen them?”

‘The Queen gifted them to me a few moons ago. I haven’t found the courage to wear them yet”

“You look beautiful in whatever you wear”

“Or whatever I don’t” She teased as she tucked them under his jerkin; safely tied to the leather cord he always wore around his neck. He pulled her up for another kiss, before pulling away with a groan.

“We can’t,” He told her, “We need to go now”

“Go where”

“Do you trust me?” He questioned. She nodded and took his hand, letting him drag her down the corridors towards the main entrance.

They had reached the front foyer. The heavy doors were shut, but she could hear shouting beyond them.

‘Jon?” She questioned, but he threw open the door before she could finish whatever it was she was going to say.

She looked out into the vast crowd in surprise. Banners from all over the kingdoms were there, flying in the wind. The guards parted the crowds as they made their way through, towards the courtyard, which appeared to have been transformed.

“A tourney” She whispered as they walked, “You decided to hold a tournament?”

“I did,” He told her.

“Whatever for?”

‘You shall see” He replied. When they reached the edge of the tourney grounds, he stopped and kissed her hand. “Until we meet again, my lady” He told her, “Dario, escort my wife to the Queen”

The foreign knight whom she hadn’t seen in awhile grinned at her and led her away from Jon. She was led to the Queen, who was sitting in a box in the middle, higher then the rest. Aegon was missing, meaning he had to be in the tourney too.

‘Your Grace” She told her, bowing.

“Lady Sansa” The Queen smiled, “I am glad to see how well you look in that dress”

‘I thank you, your Grace, for the compliment and the fine gift”

“You are surprised, are you not?” She asked with a laugh, “I can see it in your eyes”

‘I woke up this morning expecting to have a dull day, and I’m at a tourney that seemed to appear overnight”

“Oh, it did” The Queen agreed, “But you were surprised at least”

“I still am” She told her, “Is this really for what I think it is for?”

“Did you think he would forget?” The Queen questioned with a laugh.

“I did,” She admitted, slightly ashamed. She had not believed that Jon would remember their anniversary; it was not something men did. She should have given him more credit then that though, he wasn’t just a man, he was Jon.

“You’re maester did remind him awhile back so he may have forgotten, but I know not” 

“My gift pales in comparison to this”

“I’m sure Jon will love it” The Queen told her, “Oh, look, they are beginning” The Queen told her, pointing to the middle of the field where Aegon had ridden out. He had his crown perched crooked atop his silver curls.

“Lords and ladies, good people of the kingdoms welcome, and thank you for coming to this celebration of love” Aegon shouted. “Today’s tournament is in honor of the one year anniversary of the marriage between my dear brother, Prince Jon Targaryen and his beautiful wife, Princess Sansa Stark. At sunset, a feast will be held to further honor the happy couple! Let the games begin!”

“Jon is up first”

The tourney was a shorter version of a real tourney. There was one representative from each district, not including Aegon and Jon. That meant that there were nine total. She recognized the Northern fighter as an Umber, but that was the only one she knew.

She cringed every time Jon was up. He was a strong contender, she knew he was good, but she still feared ever since she had watched the Mountain slay the knight of the Vale all those years ago.

In the end it acme down to Aegon and Jon, which the Queen had predicted earlier on in the game.

“Aegon is strong and fast, but Jon is smarter and wiser in his moves” The Queen told her as they readied their horses.

“Aegon acts on whim while Jon overthinks” She whispered back. From the spot where the squires were passing the princes their swords, Rickon waved to her. It appeared that he was acting as Jon’s squire today.

She waved back at him with a smile.

‘He seems to be a good lad” The Queen commented. 

“We bribe him with sword fights” She told her with a laugh, “He’s a wilding, he is”

“Not a bad quality. I believe most of the kingdom would compare the Dothraki to wildings,”

“Similar, yes” She agreed, “He is wild, yes, but learning quickly. He will make a fine lord”

“They are beginning” The Queen told her, focusing on the field again. Aegon and Jon rushed at each other. She held her breath, but neither made a move. She let it out with a sigh.

“Do not worry so, Lady Sansa,” The Queen advised. “I know that Jon will win”

“But Aegon is your husband. You should wish for his victory, your Grace”

“Aegon is too cocky” She told her just as Jon destroyed Aegon’s shield.

The Queen turned out to be right. On the next turn, Aegon was unhorsed and Jon was declared victor. Aegon got up from the ground and pulled the crown of roses from its pedestal, presenting it to Jon as he held up his arm in victory.

Aegon whispered something to Jon before slapping him on the rear and pushing him towards his horse, rose crown still in hand. Jon carefully mounted and rode around the field as the crowds cheered.

“Dearest Sansa,” He had stopped in front of her, his hand outstretched.   
“Will you be my Queen of love and beauty?” He questioned with a smirk.

“I suppose,” She teased. She grabbed his hand and allowed herself to be pulled onto the horse in front of him. He carefully took off her tiara and passed it to the Queen, who was awaiting it. He secured the rose crown before galloping around the field in a circle for the crowd to cheer again.

Once the round was complete, he rode out of the field completely, towards the family stables, which were empty. He jumped down first and then lifted her down carefully.

“Were you surprised?” He questioned lightly as he placed her on the ground.

“Quite” She murmured, “Thank you, Jon, truly. That was amazing”

“That was only the first part” He murmured against her ear, “They’ve begun the luncheon now, courtesy of Dany, but at sunset, we feast”

“And what are we to do in between?” She questioned as he kissed his way across her jawline, sending shockwaves through her entire body.

“Have our own private luncheon” He replied.

“Oh?”

“Mhmm” He murmured, kissing her neck, “Happy anniversary” He whispered, finally pressing his lips to hers and lifting her up so that she was against the wall.

She kissed back, twining her hands through his damp mop of curls. His gloved hand was soft against her cheek while the other held firm to her bottom to keep her upright. Her slippered feet hung a few inches from the ground.

“Come, we will go to your chambers” He whispered, letting her slide down the wall and onto her shaky legs.

“Not fair” She murmured. She had been so close. 

“You’ll like it, I promise,” He murmured.

 

The main castle was empty. Everyone was feasting on their lunches out on the tourney grounds. Only a few guards remained stationed inside.

Jon led her to her chambers again instead of his own.

“Close your eyes” he told her softly, taking her hand to guide her. 

He opened the door and the smell of flowers hit her strongly. It smelt like the outdoors, like the northern fields of wildflowers or the glass gardens. She took a huge breath, enjoying the change from the typical castle scent.

“Open them” Jon told her. 

She blinked open her eyes, not quite believing what was in front of her. It was like a song, a fairytale come to life. Her chambers had been covered in flowers. There were petals strewn about the bed and the floors and crystal vases filled with long stemmed wildflowers covered her dresser and vanity and tables.

“Oh, Jon” She felt the tears come to her eyes uninvited.

“Don’t cry, Sansa,” He murmured in alarm, “I didn’t mean to upset you, I’m sorry,” He told her as he gently wiped the few errant tears from her face. “Please, Sansa, don’t cry”

“They’re tears of joy, I cannot help it” She hiccupped, “It’s all so beautiful, Jon, really. My gift for you looks like chopped liver next to this”

“I happen to love chopped liver” He told her seriously. She chuckled as he wiped the last of her tears from her cheeks. 

“Come, let me show you how much I loved your gift” She murmured, pulling him towards her bed.

 

A few hours later, Jon pulled himself out of their embrace. She admired his muscled form in the dim light of the hearth. He had a flower stuck to his lower thigh.

“Do you like what you see?” He questioned as he looked for his clothing.

“I love it,” She told him, though her cheeks flamed at getting caught staring. He seemed slightly startled by her words, though he quickly covered his reaction by plucking the flower from his thigh and tossing it to her. 

“For my Queen of Love and Beauty” He teased.

‘I look a mess” She told him as she looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was a nest of flowers and curls and pins and her porcelain skin was marked with love bites and flower petals.

“Sara will come and sort you out for the feast” He told her, “I have to go, you need all the time you can get”

“Jon!” She swatted at his arm with a laugh, “I haven’t given you your gift”

“Later” He whispered against her lips as he gave her a departing kiss, “Promise!”

And just like that he was out the door. She sat heavily on the bed and sighed.

She knew why he had reacted to her using the l word. Love. She heard him sometimes, whispering it when he thought she was asleep, and she knew why he whispered it. Love was not something she had thought she would find in a marriage, something Jon knew. But with him, it was different. 

She loved him, she truly did. She would have to tell him first, of course, which was the problem. She couldn’t muster the courage quite yet.

“My lady?” Sara interrupted her thought. 

 

She spent the next hour getting regroomed by Sara. She insisted that the girl leave her hair down, it was not worth it to put it back up. She then pulled out another unknown gown, though this one was grey and white. It was beautiful of course, fit for a Queen, even.

“Prince Jon had it commissioned’ Sara told her as she laced her into the smooth silky gown.

“Tis beautiful”

‘You looked like an ice queen, my lady” Sara told her, “Will you be wearing the tiara?”

“No, the roses, I think”

“A good choice” Sara complimented, placing the roses carefully atop her head “You look beautiful my lady” 

“Thank you, Sara. You may leave now to enjoy the festivities”

“Thank you, my lady” Sara curtsied and left her chambers.

A moment later, Jon slipped into her chambers through the door from his own chambers. He was dressed in a matching white and grey tunic, his crown atop his still messy curls.

“You look beautiful, Sansa” He told her sincerely.

“As do you,” She told him. He grinned and held out his hand. She placed her gloved one in his and allowed him to kiss it.

“Shall we?” 

“After you”

Arm in arm they walked down the corridors towards the Great Hall, where she could hear the people already loudly chatting and singing. 

The noise tapered down to silence as the guards announced their arrival. The heavy wooden doors swung open and everyone turned to watch them walk down the center aisle.

The King and Queen were seated to the side of Jon’s seat while Rickon sat next to hers with Maester Samwell.

Jon spoke a few words of thanks for those that came to celebrate before calling the feast to begin. Everyone cheered and it began.

Everything went smashingly until the desserts were brought out. Lemon cakes, her favorite of course.

She polished off three of them, which was no small feat since they were larger then most lemon cakes. Jon then teasingly began to feed her bits of his own pastry, laughing as the powder stained her cheeks and the lap of her dress. 

She watched as the Queen took in the sight of her smiling nephew, a rare sight she supposed since Jon had been so sullen for most of his life, before nodding to her with a smile, as if approving of them. She smiled back at the Queen. Jon noticed and turned to his Aunt with a quirked brow.

“You look happy, nephew,” The Queen told him.

“I am happy” He replied, “Deliriously so” She smiled sweetly at his words, grasping his hand within her own.

“Then I am happy for you, for the both of you” The Queen told them.

“Thank you, Aunt” Jon replied, “Let’s call this feast to an end and retire for the evening, shall we?” He whispered to her ear, sending shivers down her spine as his hot breath ghosted across her neck.

“I am in agreement, yes,” She told him, standing with him.

“Shall we call for a bedding?” Aegon teased.

“Very funny” Jon retorted. Aegon snorted but as the crowd quieted to listen to whatever Jon had to say, Aegon was forced to keep quiet.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you all for coming to Winterfell to join us in celebrating-”

A commotion in the back stopped Jon’s speech. Something had caught fire. The guards all surged towards the fire, calling for water, lest the Great Hall be burnt down again.

As the guards went towards the fire, Jon stepped forward too, closer to the crowds to quiet their fears. The memory of the burning of Winterfell was still quite fresh in some minds.

She felt the blade against her neck before she felt the arms pulling her up onto the table. She heard the Queen and Aegon call for guards and for Jon, but she herself could not speak due to fear. She frantically searched for Jon in the panicking crowd, watching as he caught sight of what was happening on the dais, his grey eyes locking onto hers in horror.

“Sansa!”


	11. Chapter 11

_Previously:_

_A commotion in the back stopped Jon’s speech. Something had caught fire. The guards all surged towards the fire, calling for water, lest the Great Hall be burnt down again._ _As the guards went towards the fire, Jon stepped forward too, closer to the crowds to quiet their fears. The memory of the burning of Winterfell was still quite fresh in some minds._ _She felt the blade against her neck before she felt the arms pulling her up onto the table. She heard the Queen and Aegon call for guards and for Jon, but she herself could not speak due to fear. She frantically searched for Jon in the panicking crowd, watching as he caught sight of what was happening on the dais, his grey eyes locking onto hers in horror._

 

“Sansa!” Jon shouted, “Let her go” He unsheathed Longclaw, pointing it towards her attacker. She could feel the warm blood oozing down her throat from his blade, mixing with the tears that were pouring from her eyes.

 

“Stay back or I cut her,” The person whispered harshly, pressing the blade even harder against her skin.

 

“Let her go!” Jon screamed.

 

“She’s no Stark!” They screamed, holding her up now since her legs had turned to mush, “She’s an impostor! She's a traitor!”

 

“She is Sansa Stark, Lady of Winterfell, Warden of the North” Jon shouted back, “What you are doing is treason! Drop the knife and you shall keep your life”

 

“I can strangle her with my bare hands!” The attacker called, throwing their knife to the ground, their gloved hands now circling her neck. She choked as the air was cut off. “She’s a Lannister! She deserves death!”

 

“Please” She choked out, “Please”

 

“Begging” The attacker whispered, “Begging will not sway me, Lannister” She looked down to see that the blood had dripped onto her beautiful gown, staining the precious material. The attackers hands had to be coated with it now.

 

“Let her go or you will die” Jon repeated, stepping closer. The attacker gripped her neck tighter and her vision swam as she struggled to breathe. 

 

“She isn’t a wolf, Jon! She deserves death, she killed father!”

 

“Arya” Both she and Jon realized at the same time. Arya was the one holding onto her neck, threatening to kill her. Holding it even tighter it seemed, since her vision was blurring as the air left her body slowly. Her little sister was about to kill her. It felt like the life was leaving her, her limbs were getting heavy and her mind hazy.

 

“Arya” Jon spoke again, “Let her go Arya”

 

“Or what? You’ll kill me?”

 

“Arya” Jon whispered.

 

“You would chose her over me?”

 

“Stop it” Jon shouted, “You are Arya Stark of Winterfell, not an honor-less killer, certainly not a kinslayer. Think of what your father would say about this”

 

“She killed father, Jon. She is the reason he’s dead”

 

“I know what happened Arya, but it is in the past and she is not to blame. You were both children then, it is time to be an adult about this,”

 

“Not for me” Arya whispered.

 

“Arya!” Jon shouted again, “Little sister” He pleaded, “If not for I or for Sansa, do it for Rickon”

 

She saw Rickon to her side, watching in fear, utterly frozen. His hand held his dagger but he did not seem to realize it. He was staring slack jawed at Arya who seemed to be startled by his appearance, letting her grip loosen a fraction of an inch. She must not have realized that their youngest brother was there. She may not have even known that he had been recovered.

“Look away, Rickon” She whispered with her new found breath, causing him to looks towards her “Look away, love” She didn’t need her little brother to witness any more horrors in his short life. He had already seen so much in such a small period of time. He did as she bid and turned his head so that he wasn’t looking at either of them.

 

“He’s just come home, Arya, don’t ruin his life like the Lannister’s ruined the rest of ours” Jon pleaded with her, "He's the same age you were when father died, did you know that?"

 

In a split second, Arya let go of her neck and shoved her to the ground from atop the table. She heard the patter of feet and Jon’s shout of “Arya” before she hit the stone floor with a thud. Her head thwacked against the cold stone and pain radiated from her temple.

 

“Grab Lady Sansa! Take her to safety, call for Maester Tarly!” She heard someone yell. Rough hands grabbed her and lifted her from the ground, holding her tightly to their metal chest. The last thing she saw before her vision went black was Jon racing down the aisle of the Great Hall, chasing after Arya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this will not be at any point a Jon/Arya story. I had the pairing in the summary as a sibling thing, but I understand that it is a bit misleading. This story is about the entire family reunited. Jon and Sansa were the first arc, followed by Rickon's return, and now Arya's is up. She will have her own beau, rest assured. Thank you for all of your comments.


	12. Chapter 12

She awoke feeling sore and achey. Her neck stung and her throat was on fire, not to mention the drumming in her head. She moaned and rolled over, expecting Jon to be next to her, but he wasn’t. Disappointed surged as she sat up and looked around. She wasn’t even in his chambers, but her own.

The flowers were still scattered around the place.

“Jon?” She called, searching for him in the shadows.

“You’re awake” A female voice startled her, causing her to look to the balcony where the Queen was standing.

“Your Grace” She rasped, her voice raspy.

“How do you feel?” She questioned, coming closer.

“Sore” She mumbled, “Where is Jon?”

“He is with your attacker”

“Arya”

“Yes, her”

“Where are they?”

“In your sister’s old chambers. Do not worry, they are well guarded”

“How long has Jon been with her?” She questioned.

“Since he caught her in the Wolfswood” The Queen told her, “He chased her for near an hour” She felt strangely upset that he hadn’t been with her, that he had chosen Arya over her. She was hurt that he had picked Arya like they always had when they were children. He had probably asked his Aunt to watch over her, which was kind, but still, she wanted him.

“Are you alright, Lady Sansa?” The Queen must have seen the hurt in her eyes.

“My head feels as if someone is driving a dagger through it,” She told her instead.

“You hit your head hard against the floor when she pushed you”

“How long has it been?”

“A day” She told her softly. She realized now that the Queen was wearing a simpler dress, not the elegant one she had been wearing last night. And that Jon had not come to see her for a day. “Shall I call for the maester?”

“Please” She nodded.

“Perhaps some food as well. You should eat”

“I’m not hungry,” She whispered, laying her head back onto her pillow. A stray flower fell into her face.

She knew that it was petty and childish, clearly Arya needed help, but she wanted Jon, she wanted her husband. She felt like a child again, the little girl that no one wanted to play with because she didn’t fit into their games, not like Arya. Arya was always Jon’s favorite; she was the sister he had wanted in the first place, the sister he had loved the most. He was the one that gave Arya that thin little sword she loved so much, the one that secretly taught her archery and how to arm wrestle. Arya was the one that cared for him when he was sick, when their mother wouldn’t tend to him. Arya, despite her lack of basic female qualities, had always taken care of Jon as best as she could. 

“Sansa?” The Queen asked softly, forgoing the usage of title, as she knelt next to the bed. “What ails you in truth?”

“Nothing, your Grace. I wish to be alone” She told her pettily, rolling over and giving the Queen her back. 

“As you wish” The Queen sighed, “I shall fetch the maester and something to eat”

When she heard the door shut, she stood on shaking legs and looked about the room. The flowers were everywhere, constant reminders that Jon wasn’t there with her, but with Arya.

One by one, she placed them all into the hearth, watching with tears in her eyes as they burnt to a crisp, wilting and perishing in the flames. By the time she was finished burning them all, the maester was knocking on her door.

“Enter” She called as she sat at her dressing table. She heard the door open, but she did not turn from the looking glass. Her neck was bruised in the shape of hands, and there was an angry red line from where the dagger had sliced her. She had a gash atop her brow that was bruising as well, probably from hitting the ground. 

“My lady?” Sam questioned. “I have some salves and potions for you”

“Of course” She mumbled.

“They will heal, my lady” Sam assured her as he placed his things on her vanity top.

“I am no stranger to bruises and gashes, Maester Tarly” She replied wincing slightly as he applied some sort of salve to her forehead gash. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, all bruised and bloody, had reminded her of the capital, and of how alone she had been there, just as she was now, “How is my attacker? Is she really Arya Stark?”

“Jon says that she is much changed, though he insists that it is her. She looks much like Jon, same features once she was bathed of all that dirt. Mind you, she is not in a right state, her mind is muddled and manipulated, but she seems to harbor no ill will towards Jon”

“She wouldn’t” She told the maseter softly, “She and Jon were extremely close, closer then any of us in truth. She was his favorite, and he was hers. She only hates me,”

“She is ill of mind, my lady. I am sure she does not hate you, she is your sister”

“Yes, she is my sister, which is why she is ensconced in her chambers instead of awaiting a chopping block for committing high treason” She replied shrilly. Her betrayal and hurt had turned to anger as the maester spoke of Jon and Arya.

“You would have her executed, my lady?” Sam asked in surprise. She herself was startled at what she had just said.

“No” She shook her head, “But if she had killed me, would Jon have done it?” She whispered, “Had she taken my life, would Jon have taken hers, Maester Tarly?”

“That is an impossible situation, my lady” Sam murmured, “But Jon is an honorable man, he would have done the honorable thing”

“Which is what? Executing your sister for murdering your wife, who happens to be your sister’s sister? Is that kinslaying or does the original kinslaying negate that? Would he have made Rickon watch? Bran saw his first execution at seven. Would he have robbed him of two siblings? What would have happened had she succeeded in taking my life, maester?”

“You are overwhelmed, my lady” Sam told her, “You’ve had a big shock, and your body needs rest,”

“Rest is the last thing I need” She hissed, her anger now turning to steel resolve, “I’ve rested for an entire day. I thank you for you assistance, maester, but you may take leave now” She was Lady of Winterfell; the North was hers, not Jon’s or Arya’s. She steeled her will and began to unlace her shift. 

“My lady-”

“Now” She hissed. “I need to dress, unless you wish to stay for that”

“No, my lady. My apologies” Sam stammered as she began to unlace her gown. He ran from the room after that.

She managed to strip bare and then dress herself in a simple steel grey gown. It was of a northern cut, and covered her neck completely. As she dressed, she noticed the crown of winter roses was sitting atop her dresser, crumpled and broken, but there. She nearly tossed it in the hearth with the others, but she couldn’t bring herself to do that.

She plaited her hair so that it covered the gash on her brow as well. When she looked in the mirror, everything looks perfect. If it weren’t for her throbbing head, she could have fooled herself.

“Llewellyn, with me” She told the guard as she left her chambers. If they were surprised by her presence, they said nothing, both following her instead of just the one.

The steps to Arya’s old chambers, the ones that were next to her own old ones, were familiar and different at the same time. As she approached the corridor, she took in the presence of a dozen guards, some belonging to the Queen herself.

Berwyn blocked the door though.

“My lady” He nodded.

“Berwyn” She acknowledged.

“Are you sure this is wise, my lady?” He questioned.

“You will accompany me, of course,” She told him. He was the captain of their guard, a good northern man who was no knight.

“If that is what you wish,” He told her softly, stepping aside so that he could open the door.

“Berwyn, I said no-” Jon stopped his sentence short as he caught sight of her, “Sansa” He stated in surprise.

“Prince Jon,” She murmured, stepping closer into the room so that she could find Arya. She sat cross-legged on the bed, her long dark hair plaited over her shoulder. She was freshly bathed it seemed and had been dressed in a pair of what appeared to be Rickon’s breeches and tunic. Her grey eyes watched closely as she stepped into the room.

She looked so much like Jon, like their father.

“Sansa, I do not think it wi-”

“I did not ask what you thought, your Grace,” She told him, briefly looking to him before focusing on Arya again. From what she could catch in the short glimpse, he looked confused by her actions. “Tell me your name,” She commanded Arya.

She cocked her head to the side, measuring her up.

“Arya Stark” It was a softer voice then that of the girl that had attacked her, but still the same. It was deeper then she remembered Arya’s as.

“And do you know that what you have done is considered high treason?” She questioned.

“Sansa, I already-”

“I am the Warden of the North, I am the Lady of Winterfell” She spoke above Jon, “It is my jurisdiction, your Grace. In fact, I wish to speak to my attacker alone”

“That is not advisable, my lady” Berwyn stated. Jon did not speak nor did she look up to see his reaction.

“She will not hurt me” She told him, staring Arya down, “Will you?”

“I will not kill her” Arya replied calmly.

“You may wait outside the door, Berwyn, after you have escorted Prince Jon away from these chambers”

“Yes, my lady. This way, your Grace”

It took everything she had not to look to Jon as Berwyn led him out. When she heard the door shut, she made her way to the chair that Jon had been seated in.

“Are you going to strike me? Punch me? Strangle me again perhaps?” She asked Arya.

“No” Arya answered levelly, staring at her. It was unnerving how still she could sit, how calm her face looked. Even she could not see through the mask her little sister wore.

“Are you aware that what you did was treason?”

“Yes,” Arya replied.

“And that I have every right to execute you?”

“Yes”

“And yet you decided to try it anyways,”

“I would have done it” Arya told her confidently.

“Why?” She questioned simply. Yes, she and Arya had never gotten along well, but they were sisters, bonded by blood, and she would never think to kill her sister, even now. Even if Jon chose Arya over her. “Because I was married to Tyrion Lannister for a fortnight? The Queen annulled that, it was never consummated”

“You are not a Stark”

“No, I am not. Neither is Jon”

“Jon is a Stark, he’s not a dragon”

“Whatever Jon is, Arya, I am as well. Have you not heard of our marriage?”

“Disgusting, revolting”

“We are cousins, not siblings,”

“You were raised as siblings”

“Were we?” She questioned, “I do not recall ever calling him brother”

“You do not deserve him”

‘No, I certainly do not, but neither do you”

“Are you going to take my head then?” Arya questioned, “Could you kill me, sister? Could you stomach killing another living being?”

“You would not be my first, Arya,” She told her, standing from the chair.

“You are not a killer,” Arya scoffed, her grey eyes glittering like chips of steel. “You’re weak, Sansa. You’ve always been a weak little girl”

“I’ve grown up, Arya, just as you have. You say that I am no Stark? What have you done to avenge our family, hmm?”

Arya made no answer. But she could tell that she had struck a cord. The words of Petyr Baelish rang in her head as she stared at her sister, “Find their weakness, and use it against them” He always said. Her father’s had been honor. Arya’s would be pride, familial pride. She was so adamant that she wasn’t a wolf, but what made Arya one?

“Ice was brought back to Winterfell, it sits in the crypts. Robb’s bronze crown sits atop his stone head. Father’s bones are finally at rest, and Rickon is home. What have you done? Where have you even been?”

“Braavos” Arya told her.

“Braavos” She repeated softly, “Doing what?”

“Learning” 

“Learning what?”

“To kill”

“And yet you failed to kill me”

“I’ve killed other, those that deserved it”

“Like whom?”

“Those that hurt me” Arya told her, “Those that I swore would get revenge”

“Those that hurt you” She whispered, “What about those that hurt us? The one’s that destroyed our family?”

“The Lannister’s are dead” Arya stated, “I would have killed them all”

“Would you have?” She shook her head, “Joffrey died due to a poison that I snuck into the wedding in a hair net. Did you know that?”

“No”

“And the Frey’s and Bolton’s, those that killed Robb and mother, do you know what happened to them?”

“No”

“Jon burnt them. Do you even know who started this whole ordeal? Do you?” She demanded.

“The Lannister’s”

“No” She shook her head, “No, they did not,” She smiled at her little sister, watching as her mask slipped an inch. She had been so obsessed with getting revenge on the Lannister’s, on blaming them, that she hadn’t even considered that they were innocent, well partially.

“There was a man that grew up with mother, he loved her til the day he died. He was too lowly for her to even consider marrying, not that she wanted to. Master of the Coin, Petyr Baelish, do you remember him?”

“Yes” Arya stared. “Littlefinger he was called”

“Yes, him. Well, Petyr Baelish started it all, Arya. He was responsible for Jon Arryn’s death. He had Lysa write the letter to mother that put blame on the Lannisters. Oh, they were far from innocent, but they did not start this. Jon Arryn’s death did. If he hadn’t died, father would have never been called to be Hand. And then Baelish sold out father to the Lannister’s. He told them what father planned to do and they arrested him, and took his head”

“You lie”

“Do I?” She questioned, “A man always brags about all he’s accomplished when he’s in the throes of passion, did you know that? I look so much like mother; he even called me Cat sometimes. On the night that he first raped me, he told me the whole of it, the entire truth. No one even suspected him. Everything he had done, everything he had gained was perfect. He had the Vale, he would have the North through me, and then he would take the capital. And do you know what I did? I killed him. I cut his gut open with one of the swords Ice had become. I whispered father’s name in his ear as he slowly and painfully bled to death. I told him that our mother had never loved him, that she had only loved our father,”

She took a breath to calm herself. She couldn’t slip in front of Arya, not when her mask was so impressive. She needed all the leverage she could get.

“You call me weak and an imposter, but I’m not the one that ran away, Arya. I am not the one that abandoned my sister and father in the capital, that ran away like a child. Jon and I have avenged our family’s deaths. We have rebuilt our name, our home, while you’ve been off in the free cities killing without honor. You ran like a child, Arya, you abandoned your pack”

She stood and smoothed out her skirts, straightening her back as she looked down upon Arya.

“What would father say, Arya? Have you ever wondered what he would say if he could see you now?” She asked softly, turning her back to leave Arya. When she reached the door she turned again. Arya hadn’t moved an inch.

“I am a Stark, Arya,” She told her, “You have a choice, are you going to be an honor-less killer or a Stark? It’s quite simple, but you must decide yourself what you wish to be,”


	13. Chapter 13

Jon stared at the door for what seemed like hours. He could not fathom why Sansa had barred it or why she refused to speak with him.

It had first started when she had barged into Arya’s chambers, the picture of Northern grace. He had been surprised, Sam had told him that she would sleep for another day with the potions he had given her. But then she was awake and she had called him by his title, confusing and hurting him even further. She hadn’t even properly looked at him, ignoring him like he wasn’t even there. When she had Berwyn escort him from the chambers, he had been so surprised that he hadn’t even asked why.

That was yesterday. And today she refused to see him again. She refused to allow him entrance to Arya’s room as well, having Berwyn guard it, who took that task quite seriously. If he ever questioned the mans loyalty, it was Sansa’s and Sansa’s alone. 

“Are you going to apologize soon, nephew?” Dany asked as she watched him stare at the door. He realized that he must have been staring at it for quite awhile since her goblet is near empty. She had come to his chambers for their afternoon meal.

“If I knew what to apologize for I would have done it yesterday,” He told her. 

“Think about it, Jon” She sighed. She had refused to tell him anything pertinent for the past day. 

“I have!” He tossed his hands in the air in frustration. He missed her. He missed his wife. All he wanted to have her tightly wrapped in his arms, safe and warm, and there. He just wanted her to be there next to him, like she was supposed to be.

“You clearly have not” Dany shook her head. A knock came form outside the door, “Come in!” Dany called despite the fact that they were in his chambers, not hers. A Queen was a Queen and she would do as she pleased, after all.

“Your Graces” Llewellyn bowed, “Lady Sansa begs your audience with the prisoner, my Queen”

“With Lady Arya?” Dany questioned in surprise.

“Yes, your Grace” 

“Of course” Dany nodded, “I suppose you shall have to continue your thoughts alone, nephew”

“I’ll go with you”

“The Lady Sansa quite clearly stated that she only wanted the Queen, your Grace,” The guard told him.

“What were her exact words, Llewellyn?”

“Find the Queen and ask her to accompany me and under no circumstances is Prince Jon allowed to come with her, your Grace,” The guard told him.

“I shall see you later, nephew,” Dany told him, already leaving the room. He sighed in frustration, messing up his hair again as he thought of what to do. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t even know why Sansa was upset with him.

“Damnit!” He cursed, wiping the goblets and food off of the small in front of him in his anger. It helped a bit to see the platter fall to the ground and the wine drip like a bloody river, but it he hadn’t counted on the glass goblets. His hand was now freely bleeding due to that. He cursed again and stood. He wrapped it with a cloth napkin that had come with their food. It wasn’t bleeding too badly after all, he didn’t want to bother Sam, and Sansa certainly wasn’t going to help him.

Knowing that Sansa was no longer in her chambers, he snuck towards the door and tried to push it open. It was latched from the inside though. He unsheathed Longclaw and stuck it through the doorframe and the door, levering the latch up like that. The heavy oak swung open easily as a draft of cold air hit his face.

Her hearth was empty but a candle was lit on her mantle piece. He noticed instantly that all the flowers he and Rickon had picked and the servants had strewn about the room were gone, every single one. The vases were empty and the flood looked to have been swept clean. She had gotten rid of them all.

The only flower left in the room was the crown of winter roses, which sat on the mantle. He approached slowly and picked it up. A few in the front were stained red from where she had bled onto them, probably where Arya had pushed her to the ground. He fought the urge to crush or pick off the bloody flowers, but put the crown back down with a sad sigh.

He puts his head to the mantle, trying to dispel the image of Sansa being held at knifepoint. It had been the scariest moment in his life. Nothing compared to the fear he felt when he saw her with the steel pressed to her soft neck, Not the wights, or Others or wildings. He had never felt such paralyzing fear as he had then. And the thought of losing her hurt more then the thought of losing anyone else. Robb’s death, their father’s death, nothing compared. As he looked down, he noticed the contents of the hearth.

Burnt and wilted, the flowers were now crisp and black. She had burnt them, she had burnt all of them.

Grief and anger flow through his veins as he tried to image why she would do such a thing. He can’t though, which is probably why Sansa was still refusing to talk to him. He didn't know why she’s so upset. She wasn’t the one that had to watch him being held at knifepoint, nor did she have to chase their half mad little sister through the woods, nearly strangling her to subdue her. No, he didn't understand why Sansa would burn all the flowers.

Her chamber door opened without his notice. He startled when he heard her voice, heard the coldness in her tone.

“Your Grace” Her voice is as hard as steel and as cold as ice.

“Sansa-”

“Why are you here, your Grace?” She questioned. He turned to find her blue as cold and angry. Her hands were clenched in the layers of her skirt, her knuckles white.

“You burnt them” He finds himself saying. “You burnt them all”

“The flowers?” She questioned, “Yes, I did”

“Why?” He questioned.

“Because they reminded me of you,” She told him. The truth hurt the saying went, and this truth hurt all the more. “Now remove yourself from my chambers before I call for Berwyn”

“Fine” He didn’t feel like arguing, not now. “I will do you a service then. Burn the ones that you missed” He tossed the candle into the hearth, which roared to life with the kindle that was waiting. He dropped the crown of roses on the top. 

He left her chambers then, brushing past her without a second glance. He made his way towards his own chambers where he pulled on his heavy boots and his thickest cloak, grabbing his gloves as well. When he closed his chamber door, he called for a guard to ready a hunting party before searching for Aegon and Rickon.

He needed to get out of Winterfell; he needed the fresh air, and some freedom from Sansa.


	14. Chapter 14

She has the Queen sit with Arya and speak to her. The Queen knows vengeance well, not to mention Arya had never hated the Queen. In fact, she’s quite sure that Arya and the Queen will be fast friends.

She goes back to her chambers to grab her cloak so that she can visit the Godswood, only to find someone already there. Jon stands facing the hearth, his arms braced against her mantle piece.

“Your Grace” She makes sure to keep her emotion out of her tone though her heart aches to see him, just as it always has.

“Sansa” He sounds surprised. He must not have heard her enter.

“Why are you here, your Grace?” She questioned before he could speak any further. He turns her grey eyes to her, and see can see the hurt behind them. She knows she is hurting him, but he hurt her first. All of this was because of him. She clutches her hands in her skirts and breathes in.

“You burnt them” Jon whispers, “You burnt them all”

“The flowers?” She questioned, “Yes, I did”

“Why?” He asked.

“Because they reminded me of you,” She felt a small bit of satisfaction in watching his face contort with pain, but a second later, she feels only hurt. She wants nothing more then to comfort him, to reach out to him and wrap her arms around his shoulders. She can’t take his presence in her room any longer. “Now remove yourself from my chambers before I call for Berwyn” Her voice breaks on that, and she knows he heard it.

“Fine” He whispered. “I will do you a service though, before I remove myself from your presence. Burn the ones that you missed” Before she could stop him, he tossed the candle into the awaiting pile of kindling, and a fire roared to life in the hearth. He dropped the rose crown into the blazing flames and turned, leaving her chambers without another word.

She didn’t watch him go. She raced to the fire, hastily removing the remains of the crown before it was lost for good. She used her left hand, not her dominant right one.

“No” She whispered in pain. She put the ruined crown on her stone mantle piece and finally looked to her hands.

‘Damnit” She cursed. Her hand was red and angry looking. They didn’t warrant a visit to the maester though. He would tell Jon, and Jon would know that she had cared enough to save the crown. No, she could deal with them on her own.

She grabbed a healing salve that she kept on her vanity to tend to Jon’s battle wounds, and smeared it over her hand before wrapping it in a bandage and securing her glove over it. 

 

“Berwyn, where is Prince Jon?” She asks her guard as they left her chambers, walking towards her solar. She did not need nor want to run into Jon again today.

“He left, my lady”

“He left?” She questions sharply, turning to stare at him, “What do you mean he left?” Panic courses through her veins at the thought of him leaving her. Mad as she might be, she would never recover if he left her.

“He called for a hunting party a few hours ago. He left with Lord Rickon and several of the other men”

“He went on a hunting party?” She repeated, disbelief clearly evident in her tone and expression.

“Yes, my lady” Berwyn nodded. “Wilhelm said that the Prince expressed a need for some fresh air and time away from the castle life. They shall return in a sennight” A sennight, a whole week. He was running away.

“Where is Prince Aegon?”

“In his chambers, I believe” Berwyn told her, “He was not feeling up to hunting”

“Then we shall go speak with him” She knows that Aegon will know more then Berwyn has to offer her. Jon would speak with Aegon beforehand. The King is not in his chambers, but in Jon’s solar instead.

“Your Grace” She curtsies.

“My lady,” He acknowledges.

“You may wait outside for me, Berwyn” She tells her guard while Aegon dismisses his as well.

“Did Prince Jon speak to you before he left?” She questioned.

“He did, my lady” Aegon nodded.

“And is true that he needed time from the castle? Some fresh air?”

“I know not, my lady”

“I know he told you, your Grace. You are his brother, his friend, and you owe no loyalty to me. He can tell you anything”

“I do owe no loyalty to you” Aegon replied, “Though if it weren’t involving Jon, I would happily oblige you,”

“So I am to understand that he abandoned his mentally unstable little sister and his wife that said sister tried to kill to hunt some wild boars?”

“I believe they were hunting deer, my lady” Prince Aegon replied with a small smile, “And I know why you are upset, I understand it, I do. But Jon, well, he never understood women too well. He doesn’t’ know why you’re upset which makes him upset, which makes him flee”

“Oh, he’s upset is he? Do you know how upsetting it is to wake up after being nearly killed by your own sister to find that your own husband is comforting her? Do you know how upsetting that is, your Grace?”

“Ah” Aegon grimaced, “I see now why you are giving him the silent treatment. I daresay he deserves it, but he didn’t do anything intentionally. Mayhap you two should speak. It seems, based on Dany’s account, that you both speak a great deal to others on your problems, but not to each other,”

“I thank you for you sound advice, Prince Aegon” She scoffed, “If would excuse me, I have a castle to run since my husband has disappeared”

She saw Aegon sigh, but he nodded and bid her farewell. She took her leave, heading towards her chambers before she lost hold of herself. Berwyn stationed himself outside of her door. She stripped out of her gown and took off her gloves carefully. She put more salve on her hand and got into her bed, relishing the feeling of her warm furs and silken sheets.

She buried her face in the cloak she had meant for Jon and cried until sleep came.


	15. Chapter 15

She awoke with puffy eyes and a sore hand the next day though the gash on her forehead had lost most of its swelling. She spent her morning hours with Arya, playing cyvasse. Neither had been particularly good at the game as children, but now they were both equally matched in their superior skill. Their game had dragged on for hours at a stalemate. Her burnt hand felt stiff from moving the pieces so often.

And they played in silence. She hadn’t spoken a word to Arya since she had asked whether she wanted to be a Stark or not. She hadn’t even asked how the Queen’s visit had gone.

“You lose,” She told her as she captured her King. Arya stared at the board in disbelief, trying to find another move. 

“I lost” Arya whispered. 

“Yes, you did” She nodded, “Shall we play again?”

“I lost” Arya repeated. She sighed.

“Yes, you lost, Arya,”

‘I-” For the first time since she arrived, Arya’s mask slipped and she saw the little girl that used to be her sister, that she should have been. She was lost and confused and angry. Arya would always be angry it seemed. But the loss in her eyes was the worst. It was the same look that she had once worn, and the same look she had seen in Jon’s eyes. 

“It’s okay to lose,” She told her softly, reaching out to touch her hand with her good hand, “Everyone loses sometimes”

“Only the weak lose” Arya scoffed, “I ‘m not weak, I’m strong,”

“No,” She shook her head, “Only the strong are able to admit that they’ve lost, and to then ask for help”

“I don’t need help”

“Everyone needs help, Arya. I needed help, Jon needed help, and even the Dragon Queen needed help”

“Who helped you?” Arya questioned.

“Jon did” She answered, “And I helped him. Winterfell helped us, Rickon helped us, just as we helped him. If you let us, we can all help you as well”

“And if I don’t want help? If I want to continue living like I have?”

“Then you may leave this castle and never return. You will be stripped of your name and titles because I will not allow a killer to bear the name Stark,” 

“Yes” Arya nodded.

“Have you made your choice then? Are you going to ask for my help?”

“Yes” Arya nodded, “I need your help to find someone”

“To find someone?” She questioned in surprise. She wasn't quite expecting that. Who would Arya need to find? She wasn't going to help her find some sell sword or murderer from the East, that was for sure. 

“Yes, an old friend of mine” She told her, “His name is Gendry Waters” A bastard from the capital. She could only imagine how Arya had befriended him.

“A boy?” She asked instead. Perhaps her sister was interest in him.

“Yes” She nodded.

“I will help you find him” She nodded, “I must go now, there are things to be done around this castle that I must tend to. You may take your leave as well, provided you do not leave the premises”

“You would give me that freedom?” Arya questioned in surprise. Her grey eyes, eyes that matched Jon’s, were wide in shock.

“I hereby grant your freedom and declare you innocent of any and all crimes, Lady Arya Stark. But you must promise not to kill anyone else so long as you bear represent this family. You will be as close to a lady as you can stand it,”

“Will I have to wear a gown?” She asked with a small smile.

“No, you can wear whatever you desire” She told her with a small smile of her own. Dresses and pretty things did not make a lady, she knew that well. If Arya wanted to be a lady that wore breeches and a tunic, she wasn't going to disagree.

‘I would go to the crypts first, if that is allowable” Arya murmured, a faraway look on her face.

“Will you need my company?”

‘No, I must do it alone, thank you” Arya told her, standing, “Are you alright, Sansa? You look pale and tired,”

“I did not sleep well,” She admitted to her sister.

‘You really love him”

“I did, yes” She nodded.

“You still do. Lovers fight, they quarrel. You will kiss and make up soon enough, or I will make you, as a form of an apology, my way of rectifying the situation. I never did apologize to you” Arya rambled, “I am sorry, Sansa. Truly”

“I am too,” She told her sister. “We have both made mistakes in our lives. Together we can fix them”

She left Arya in her chambers to ready herself to leave her rooms. She found Berwyn and had him inform the rest of the guards that Lady Arya was free to roam the castle. 

“My lady, perhaps you should get some rest,” Berwyn suggested. “You look pale. I can call for the maester if you wish”

‘I am fine, Berwyn” She told him. How could she explain to her personal guard that she was suffering from a broken heart? How could she tell him that her paleness and dark circles under her eyes were from nightmares of Jon leaving her? She couldn’t. She was supposed to be strong. “I am going to the Godswood to pray. I will return by dinner”

“As you wish, my lady”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is very short, but the next one will be longer, I promise. Thank you all for sticking with this story!

Arya

She went to the crypts first. She hadn’t felt so alive in her entire life, she hadn’t felt such sadness and grief since she was a little girl. She whispered her apologizes to her father and mother and brother, and begged forgiveness from them all before she ran from the damp underground place. It was suffocating her.

So she ran fast, and she ran hard.

She raced down the familiar hallways, similar yet so very different. Everything was like that at Winterfell. Even her family. Jon, though he was so similar to the Jon she had known as a girl, was different. Just like Sansa. And Rickon. They had all been hardened, like ice. 

She turned a corner, sliding past a guard who quizzically looked at her before shouting halt.

“Lady Sansa gave me leave!” She yelled as continued to race down the hallway.

“Let her go” She heard another guard, her sister’s personal guard, tell whomever was about to stop her.

She continued her race through the corridors until she hit the main hall, and the doors to her freedom. She burst through them, inhaling the fresh air of the North. She hadn’t truly enjoyed it when she had first arrived.

It smelt of snow and of pine trees, it smelt like home. 

“Lady Arya” One of the guards nodded to her.

“Ser” She replied with a clumsy curtsy. The guard actually laughed at her, in public. He didn’t even try to hide it.

“You do not remember me child, but I remember you” The guard told her, “I was a household guard for your father. I must say, you have not changed a bit”

“Thank you, Ser. You know my name, but I am afraid I do not know yours”

“Wilhelm Snow” He told her. “You may call me Will”

“Mayhap you could tell me more about my father some day, Will”

“It would be my pleasure, Lady Arya”

She took her leave then, to further explore the castle and get some more fresh air. By the time the sun had set, she decided to go back inside to seek out Sansa. She wanted to write a raven to Gendry, to find him.

She ran into Sansa’s guard first.

“Lady Arya” Berwyn nodded.

“Have you seen my sister?”

‘I was just going to find her” Berwyn replied, “She is in the Godswood”

“I’ll get her,” She told him, “I need to speak with her, and I haven’t been to the Godswood since I returned,”

“As you wish, Lady Arya” He nodded.

She followed the familiar path towards the Godswood, hoping that the place of prayer hadn’t changed that much. She had always loved the dark forest with the huge wierwood and reflecting pond. It was always the best place to scare Sansa.

Somehow, she didn’t think she would scare Sansa anymore.

“Sansa?” She called as she entered the darkening place. “Sansa?” She repeated when her sister did not respond.

She followed the path to the wierwood tree, scanning the area for her sister.

“Sansa!” She screamed when she saw her slumped against ground. She could see that it was her by the halo of red hair and the familiar grey gown that was tangled beneath her. “Sansa!” 

She raced to her side, rolling her sister over.

“Sansa, wake up!” But her sister wasn’t asleep


	17. Chapter 17

“Sansa, wake up!” But her sister wasn’t asleep. She was sweaty and shaking, and her eyes were screwed shut in pain. She did not speak, but she moaned and writhed around.

“Hold on” She dropped her sister and raced out of the Godswood, running as fast as she could. She nearly slammed into Berwyn on her way into the castle.

“Help! I need help!” She told him, “It’s Sansa! She’s not right”

“Lead the way” Berwyn’s face was hard as they ran towards the Godswood. They both slid to the ground before Sansa, Berwyn checking her for wounds while she watched.

“A fever” He decided after feeling Sansa’s forehead, “Go fetch Maester Samwell. I will carry her to her chambers”

She ran off again. She ignored the tightening in her chest and the ache in her legs as she willed herself to run faster. She could run faster then ever if it was for Sansa, she knew she could. 

She pushed through the maester’s door, screaming his name. The fat man appeared instantly, looking startled.

“What is it, Lady Arya?”

“My sister, she’s hurt”

“Let me grab my bag”

‘No, you run. I’ll grab it” It didn’t look like the fat maester would be much of a runner. The more time he wasted, the less time Sansa had. “Go!”

“The leather one!” He called as he left the room.

“I know what a bloody maester’s bag looks like” She huffed, looking around the cluttered room for it. She found it after a few minutes, half of the contents were scattered around the table. She shoved them all in being chasing after him.

“Sansa!” In the light of the hearth and candles she could clearly see Sansa on the bed. She was pale as snow and sweaty with fever. She shook like she was cold but the room was so hot. The maester and King looked up when she entered. The Queen did not move from her perch on the chair in the corner. “Is she?”

“She is very sick, my lady” The maester told her, “I am not sure my salves and potions would do anything”

“How?” She questioned, fearing it was somehow due to her attack.

“Her hand” The maester held up Sansa’s left hand. It was bandaged, albeit poorly, “She must have burnt it fairly recent. It’s become infected,” She knew what that meant. Infections were deadly sometimes, and harmless others. This did not look harmless. Jon looked on the brink of death; she could almost smell it in the air. It was a sickly scent, cloying and thick in the air. She could smell the decaying flesh.

“Fix her”

“I am doing all that I can” The maester told her with a broken sigh, “We’ll wait and see what happens”

“That’s it?” She asked incredulously. Wait and see? That was useless and stupid. They had to fight it.

“That is all that can be done, Lady Arya” The King spoke quietly.

“What of Jon?”

“Arya” Sansa’s fevered voice rang out clear in the silent chamber.

“Sansa?” She questioned, hope rising, “Sansa can you hear me?”

“Jon, -” She muttered hoarsely. Jon. She wanted Jon. Tears came to her eyes at how weak she sounded. She had heard men sound that weak before, and it never ended well for them.

“No” She shook her head, dispelling her tears, “It’s your sister, it's Arya”

“Get Jon” Sansa grimaced, her eyes opening weakly to reveal glassy orbs. “Arya,”

“I’ll go get him” She told him, “I’ll get him now” She was loathe to leave her side, but she wanted Jon. Their marriage may have disgusted her at the beginning, but it was clear that they were happy together. And she would do anything to make Jon happy, anything to make Sansa happy. It was her fault they were fighting anyways. Everything was her fault.

“No time”

“Of course there’s time” Her voice sounded hysterical to her own ears. She wasn’t going to say her goodbyes, not now, not ever.

“Love you”

“Don’t you dare say your goodbyes, Sansa! Damnit!” She yelled at her, “I just found you. We were going to be friends, sisters. I’m going to get Jon. Just hang on”

“Tell him-” A cough racked through her body, shaking her entire frame as she struggled to breath, “Tell him that I love him” She managed to wheeze out, her eyes screwed shut in pain as she told her. 

“Tell him yourself,” She told her, squeezing her hand one last time before she dashed out of the room. “Keep her alive!” She yelled to the maester as she left.

“Lady Arya!” The King had followed her, his silver blonde locks in disarray, “Where are you going?”

“To find Jon” She answered as if it were obvious. “You have no riding clothes. Go back to your brother Rickon’s chambers, get changed. I will ready horses” He ordered. She could see how he was King now. He had a voice that made you want to listen, made it easy to follow his orders. “You’re coming with me?” She asked in surprise. “Jon is my brother too. The Queen will watch Sansa” He assured her, "Make haste, my lady" He reminded her of the dire situation. She wasted no more time in racing towards Rickon’s room. From what she had seen of him, he was around her height, short as she was. She would fit fine in his riding clothes until she could procure some of her own. His boots were a bit big, but they would do. She was running towards the stables ten minutes later, dressed and ready to ride as hard and as fast as she could. She had to find Jon. She would never forgive herself if she didn't.


	18. Chapter 18

“They’ll be in the Wolfswood somewhere,” She told the King as they rode out of the gates of Winterfell, “It’s a lot of ground to cover”

“I am aware,” The King told her. “That’s why we are taking the dragon”

“Dragon?” She questioned, her horse stopping abruptly at his words.

“Faster that way” The King put his fingers to his mouth and whistled loudly. It hurt even her ears. A few moments later, she heard flapping of wings.

“Wow” She looked up to see a huge green beast. Smoke came from beast as fire dancing on its tongue.

“His name is Rhaegal,” The King told her as the dragon touched down in front of them. “Come on”

She didn’t wait to be told again. She clamored after the king, allowing him to pull her up onto the warm animal. He was massive beneath them, but seemed to like the king. He even nuzzled his head to the King’s head.

“Enough coddling,” She snapped. Her sister was dying.

“Up” He told the dragon in Valyrian, and then they were high in the sky.

The dragon soared towards the wood, which stretched out beneath them. The Wolfswood wasn’t as large as the Kingswood, but it was still a lot of land to cover. 

“Look for smoke or a fire, anything” The King told her, “It’s past the hunting hour. They will be making camp for the night”

“I know,” She hissed, searching the ground for any sign of life as the dragon soared faster and faster.

“There!” They both shouted at the same time. They could see smoke rising from the east. The King ordered the dragon to move and they headed towards it as the dragon dipped lower and lower into the sparse trees.

“Get ready to-” The King started but she had already jumped from the dragon, tucking her legs as she rolled onto the ground in a huff.

“What the”

Several of the men in the hunting group exclaimed loudly at her entrance. She pulled herself to her feet and brushed off her clothing, searching the crowd for Jon. The King landed next to her a second later.

“Where is Jon?” She questioned.

“The next fire, a few yards west” One of the men told her, a slightly fearful look on his face. He pointed through the trees. The group must have split up.

“Go, quickly. I will find a place for Rhaegal to land” King Aegon told her. She hastened towards the area the man had pointed her in, running through the branches and jumping over logs. She burst through the last thicket, into a clearing with a fire and a bunch of men heartily singing a bawdy song.

Jon

They were sitting around the campfire, roasting part of their kill for the day, when Arya burst through the trees, screaming his name. He stood quickly, in alarm, and went to her side. Had she escaped from Winterfell? 

“Arya?” He questioned in alarm, “What is it? Why are you here?” He pulled her away form the crowd a bit. He still didn’t want Rickon too close to her, didn’t want him getting attached just encase.

“It’s Sansa” She told him quickly, “She’s sick”

“Sick?” He questioned. “Sick she may be, but I don’t think she wishes to see me, Arya”

“No, she’s really sick, Jon” Arya whispered, “I think she’s dying” 

I think she’s dying.

“The hunt is over! Return to Winterfell!” He yelled, blood coursing through his ears. “Rickon, with me, now!” He whistled as he ran towards an opening in the trees. Viserion would hear him. Ghost raced beside him, with Arya and Rickon and Shaggy.

“Ghost, home” He ordered the wolf. He took off without another order. “Rickon, go with Aegon” He told him as he watched the two dragons land. His brother must be close somewhere.

“I’m right here” Aegon answered his unvoiced questioned. “I’ll get him back safely”

“Good. Arya, with me” He tugged his little sister up onto Viserion and took off, leaving everything and everyone else behind. “What happened?” He demanded.

“She burnt her hand, it got infected” Arya told him over the howling wind.

“What does Sam say?”

“He said it didn’t look good” Arya whispered, “I’m so sorry, Jon. It’s all my fault”

“How did she get burnt?”

“I don’t know” Arya told him, “I mean that it’s my fault you’re not with her. I drove you two apart. I’m the reason she’s mad at you”

“You are?” He was surprised. Two days in the woods had gotten him no closer to an answer on Sansa’s wrath.

“You picked me over her, Jon. Gods, are you that stupid?” Arya questioned, “Did you really not realize that?”

“I picked you over her?”

“She was hurt and you stayed with me”

“I left her alone” He whispered to the wind, thinking of just how badly he must have hurt her. He had left her alone after she had been attacked. He hadn’t thought she would wake until the next day though. But still, he hadn’t been there. She was alone and in pain, just like the capital. 

And now she was dying from a burnt hand. A hand that he has a sinking suspicion that he knows the truth of its burn. 

“She was asking for you, in her fevered state” Arya shakes him from his morbid thoughts, “Calling for you”

“What did she say?”

“Your name, that she loves you”

“She loves me?”

“Have you not told each other?” Arya questioned, “Gods, Jon, you two really are quite a pair”

“Arya!”

“I can’t not joke, Jon. We just made up, she just forgave me. She can’t die” Arya choked on her breath. He wrapped his arms tighter around her waist. “Don’t let her die, Jon”

“She’s not going to die, Arya” He told her. “She can’t, I won’t let her”


	19. Chapter 19

They were approaching Winterfell now. He had no time to land outside of the castle, and instead directed Viserion towards the training yard. It would be large enough for the dragon to touch down in, and closer to Sansa’s chambers.

Just as the dragon touches land, he’s jumping off, racing towards her chambers.

“Open the door!” He hears Berwyn shout as he approaches. Several guards hasten to open the door to Sansa’s chambers just as he races past them. Sam and Dany look up in surprise as he enters.

“That was fast”

“How is she?” He questioned, immediately going to her side. She is paler then the snow and shaking.

“Not well” Sam admits. He hears Arya as she slinks into the room. “Her fever is high, it’s destroying her body”

“Is there nothing you can do?” He questions.

“I’ve given her all that I can. I’ve opened the wound and drained the pus. We can only hope now, Jon” Sam tells him softly. “She’s fading,” Sam told him quietly, “I do not think she will make it through the night”

“And if she does?”

“Then she may not survive the morning. It is touch and go, I’m afraid”

“What happened? How did this happen?” He demanded.

“A burn on her hand” Sam gestured to the bandage, “It got infected and it spread. She never came to me, I didn’t know”

“What can I do?” He questioned. 

“Try to bring the fever down,” Sam told him. 

“Have the men gather as much snow as they can,” He told him softly. “Arya, see to it”

“Like mother used to?” Arya questioned, “Like she did that time you had the fever?”

“Yes”

“You nearly died of coldness”

“But it rid my body of the fever” He told her, “Can you do this, Arya?”

‘Yes” She nodded.

“Dany, you too. Go with Arya”

“Snow, Jon?” Sam questioned as the two women left, “What do you mean to do with snow?”

“To stop the fever,” He replied, “It is an old northern trick,”

“She could get too cold, stop her heart,” Sam argued. “She could die from that”

“She’s dying from the fever” He sighed, “It’s our only option. You may go, Sam. I will tend to her from here”

‘Jon-”

“You said it yourself, you’ve done all that you can, and I thank you for it. I will call you if I need anything, old friend”

“I shall pray for her, Jon” A maester turning to prayer was no great sign, but it brought him some comfort. The door closed behind him as he left, leaving him alone with his wife. He looked down upon her once again, taking in her shaking form.

She was pale as ice. Her beautiful face was contorted in pain and covered in layer of cold sweat. Her red curls were mussed and tangled around her head. Her lips, usually warm and puffy and pink, were purple and dry. He reached out carefully and placed his hand on her forehead, wincing at the heat of it. Her body was held taunt and she trembled as the infection wreaked havoc on her.

He found her bandaged hand and pulled it closer to inspect the damage. He had learned quite a lot about healing and wounds from the Wall and beyond it. He undid the bandage carefully.

Strong as he was, he nearly gagged at the scent of the decaying flesh. The burn was not large; it only covered her palm and a bit of the fingers. It oozed thick white pus and the skin around the open wound was an angry red color.

He put more of the salve next to her bed over her wound and then bound it loosely. It would need air to heal. The next step would be to undress her. 

A knock sounded on the chamber door. After a moment, Dany and Arya walked in with a group of men carrying a tub full of snow.

“Put it by the chair” He told them. The men dropped it and left, leaving him alone with his aunt and sister.

“Do you need help?” Arya questioned.

“No, thank you, Arya, Dany. Aegon and Rickon should arrive soon. Mayhap it would be a good time for Rickon to get to know you, little wolf”

“Jon-”

“Come, Lady Arya. Give them some time alone”

Arya dashed forward and pressed a kiss to Sansa’s hot forehead before pressing another to his.

“She’ll be okay, Jon” Arya promised, “She’s a wolf”


	20. Chapter 20

_“She’ll be okay, Jon” Arya promised, “She’s a wolf”_

 

“I know” He nodded. He watched them go before preparing to undress Sansa.

 

He worked slowly. She moaned in agony as he moved her, but her eyes stayed shut and she spoke nothing that he could understand. She mumbled though, words that were gibberish to him. When she was down to nothing but her smallclothes, he lifted her towards the tub, placing her atop the pile of fresh snow.

 

“Ahha” She called out and writhed in pain, thrashing as the snow hit her fevered skin. Her limbs shook and trembled as she flailed about in pain.Her beautiful face was contorted in agony. He wanted nothing more then to spare her the pain, but it had to be done. She had to survive this.

 

“Ssh, calm down, Sansa” He whispered against his ear, “Just relax, breathe,” He begged of her. He was in pain just watching and listening to her being in pain. It was breaking his soul to see her hurt as such.

 

He undressed himself next, getting down to his smallclothes before moving her so that he was sitting behind her in the pool of snow. It was freezing to even him but he knew his fevered skin would protect him. He held her shoulders tightly, trying in vain to stop her from shaking with fever.

 

For this to work, he would have to make her body temperatures drop very low before warming her back up. Sometimes it worked, other times, it didn’t. When he was a young boy, Lady Catlyn had done it for him, and it had worked for the best, but he knew of times when it did not work, when the fever was too strong or the snow was too much.

 

She writhed and moaned in his arms, though she was slowly calming down. He did not know if it was because the snow bath was working or not, but he welcomed it as she continued to breathe and her heart continued to beat.

 

“I’m so sorry, Sansa” He whispered against her ear, “I didn’t mean to pick her over you, I swear it. I wanted to be at your side. I wanted nothing more then to lie next to you, hold you in my arms, and tell you that everything was okay. But Sam said you were going to sleep another day and Arya was threatening her own death. I was loath to let her die. I didn’t think you would ever forgive me for letting her get away, but now I see you that I just caused you more pain. Even if you ever find it in your heart to forgive me, I don’t think I will ever forgive myself for hurting you as such”

 

She didn’t reply, of course, but she seemed to settle in his arms. Her head lolled back against his shoulder, her eyes shut but not longer strained in pain.

 

When her lips started to turn blue, he pulled her from the tub and wrapped a towel about her to dry her off. She was cold to the touch. He carried her to the bed, settling down with her still in his arms. He tried to press every inch of his skin to hers, intent on warming her back up. She was freezing against his warm skin, but he didn’t back away.

 

He sang her favorite song under his breath as he held her. It was Jonquil and Florian, one she had adored since childhood. He sang it until he could sing no more.

 

“Why didn’t you go to Sam, Sansa?” He questioned against her damp hair, “Why didn’t’ you get it treated?”

 

She made no answer and he was left to speculate.

 

He had a sinking suspicion of how her hand had gotten burnt. As he looked around her chambers, he could see the burnt and bloodied flower crown sitting atop her mantle, the same crown that he had thrown into the fire a few days before. It was his fault, it all was.

 

He would never forgive himself if she died.


	21. Chapter 21

She woke up feeling stiff. She felt as if she had slept on the ground again, like she had before. But the ground was soft as a featherbed and someone warm was pressed up behind her. She blinked her eyes open slowly, adjusting to the thin light coming in through the windows. It was either sunrise or sunset, she could not fathom which. She moved slightly, catching sight of her bandaged hand.

It came to her then, what had happened. Her burn had gotten infected. She remembered being in the Godswood and feeling ill. She remember her head swimming and her pulse racing as she staggered to her feet, desperate to find Maester Tarly. She had waited too long, she knew that now. But after that, she remembered nothing. She didn't even remember making it out of the Godswood.

Her hand didn't hurt though. It felt stiff, but not painful. She carefully undid the bandaging, revealing a half healed burn across her palm. It had to have been a week at least, based off of the healing. Which meant she had been completely out of it for at least a week. She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling of her canopy bed. Except the grey material she expected wasn't grey, but black. She was in Jon's bed.

She turned to her other side, coming face to face with her husband. He was passed out beside her, drooling slightly. He had to be deep in slumber if he was drooling. He only did that after long battles or journeys. Looking at his resting face, he looked awful. He looked like he had returned from a battle or something similar. His hair needed washing and there were bags under his eyes. 

"He's been taking care of you for 9 days" A voice to her right told her. She rolled carefully back over, to meet the grey eyes of her sister. She hadn't noticed her before. She was sitting in the far corner, whittling a piece of wood into gods knows what.

"What happened?" She whispered, her voice hoarse from disuse. 

"Your hand" Arya gestured to it, "Was badly infected. You passed out in the Godswood. I found you near death. The Maester didn't know what to do, he thought you already gone, but Jon wouldn't give up. He gave you an ice bath, and you lived through that night but your fever kept spiking up again as the burn healed. I think you had three ice baths in total. Jon never left your side, Sansa"

"I over reacted" She whispered, sighing softly.

"No, we all did. And I am sorry for my part in it. I shouldn't have done that. I love you, Sansa. You have to know that" Arya spoke quickly, begging her to understand it seemed. 

"I do understand, Arya" She whispered, "I understand and I love you too"

"Good" Arya nodded primly.

"Help me up?" She whispered. She felt gross and dirty. Nine days in a state of unconsciousness was bound to have left her disgusting. Arya nodded and carefully helped her from under the thick furs. She had been dressed in a thick woolen nightgown. She could feel the thick cloth fabric of the undergarments used by the elderly and the infirm. She was repulsing, "I need a bath"

"We'll call one to your chambers, let Jon sleep" Arya suggested. She agreed, following her sister to her own chambers. Arya set a maid running and called for the maester while she brushed out her hair in front of her vanity. It was a tangle. As her arms failed in weakness, Arya grabbed the brush. She brushed with surprisingly gentleness, smoothing her locks out before plaiting them simply.

"You're awake" Maester Tarly stated in surprise as he entered the room. His blue eyes were wide, "And up from bed"

"I feel fine" She told the man, "Just a bit stiff"

"Will you consent to my examining you, your Grace?"

"Of course" She nodded, "I understand that I was in a rough state, Maester Tarly. It is understandable that you thought all was lost. I would think the same, I am afraid. But Jon is stubborn"

"I would have never thought of an ice bath" The man admitted as he checked her wound. He felt her heart and listened to her breathing as well before deeming her surprisingly healthy considering the past 9 days. He said her hand was healing well and that he would get her some salves. He told her to rest for another week, give her time to build her strength. By the time he was done, the bath was filled and ready for her.

"I feel like an old woman" She muttered as she undressed behind the curtain. Her garments were stained with fluids and revolting. Even her maid had issue surpressing her gag.

"Stop being such a lady about it, Sansa" Arya advised, "So you pissed your undergarments, drunk men do it all the time"

"Arya" She hissed, feeling her face burn at her sister's crude speech.

"Oh, there she is" Arya grinned, "It's good to here my name in that same shrill tone"

"I am not shrill" She proclaimed as she lowered herself into the bath. It felt heavenly.The maid unplaited her hair and set to washing it while she relaxed. Arya sat lightly on her bed, absently picking at her belt.

"Shall I pick out a gown for you to wear?" Arya hopped from the bed to the wardrobe, "Something sparkly, yes?"

"A nightgown will suffice, Arya" She rolled her eyes at her sister's antics, "Something comfortable"

"Do you really wear these things for Jon?" Arya questioned in disgust as she pulled out a lace and silk dressing gown. It was black and red, a gift from the Queen. Jon loved her in it.

"The Queen gave me that" She told her sister, "And yes, men like when women dress in those things"

"They'd rather you naked" Arya told her then grimaced, "No, I can't do this with you, Sans. I thought I could because that's what the Queen said women bound about, but I can't. He's still my brother"

"You've grown closer to the Queen in the past days, haven't you?"

"She's teaching me how to use an arak" She told her with a wide grin, "And I'm teaching her water dancing"

"I am glad" She told her, sighing in pleasure as the maid started to scrub her grime covered body.

"How about this one?" Arya had pulled a simple grey and white nightgown from her wardrobe. It was simple and comfortable yet still glamorous. 

"That's one of my favorites" She told her sister, "It goes with the grey silk dressing gown" She told her.

"Do you need the dressing gown?" Arya retorted, "I mean, I don't get why you're even putting clothing on. Why sleep in a fancy gown?"

"What else would I sleep in?"

"Nothing" Arya shrugged.

"Arya Stark, princesses do not sleep in the nude" She warned her.

"They do if the only clothes they have are the ones on their backs and they need washing" Arya informed her.

"Speaking of your travels, have you found that boy yet?"

'I haven't started" Arya admitted, "Since you were dying and all"

"Well then, I'm on the mend now. Why don't you see what the Queen knows about it? She's visited all the kingdoms. Perhaps she's seen him"

"I'm not sure that's wise, Sansa" Arya whispered. Her sister sounded so worried that she had to look on her face to see what was the matter. Arya did look troubled and worried. She seemed guilty too.

"Why?" She asked, "Arya, you can tell me"

"His name is Gendry Waters" Int he back recesses of her mind, the name did sound familiar. She couldn't place it though, "He was a bastard of Robert Baratheon"

"Oh" She knew the name now. She had heard Cersei sending out the order to kill him all those years ago. It seemed like she failed though. It was strangely ironic that her sister had fallen for a Baratheon boy, "Well, then, I guess we'll find him when I am well and speak to Jon about this boy's lineage"

"You would do that for me?"

"Of course" She told her sister as the maid helped her stand. She felt so much better now, so clean and awake. She was wrapped in a thick towel and sat in front of the fire while the maid brushed out her hair to dry. Arya brought her her oils to rub onto her skin. Clean and smelling fresh, she felt a bit better. The maid brought them a tray with broth and bread, a light meal for her. Arya ended up eating half of it, but she wasn't that hungry anyways. 

"Where is Rickon?" She questioned, realizing that no one had come to see her even though she knew Sam would break the news to the entire castle.

"He went with the King and Queen on a tour of the Riverlands two days ago. Jon thought it would be wise to get him out of the castle and to see mother's homeland. The King and Queen were set to leave five days ago, remember?"

"I had forgotten" She answered truthfully. They had only come to the North for the tourney. They were to stay through the hunt and then leave. She had of course caused the hunt to end early with her injury, "Why are there so many flowers in here?" She questioned, realizing that her room was once again flooded with flora. This time they were in vases though and all blue roses. There were dozens of them.

"Jon went mad, I swear it" Arya whispered quietly, "How did you burn your hand, Sansa?" She questioned.

"Before you arrived, we had a tourney for our anniversary. Jon won and named me his Queen. He gave me a crown of beautiful roses and had my room covered in wildflowers, every surface, Arya, it was beautiful. But when I was angry with him, I burned them all, save for the crown. I couldn't burn that for some reason. I was so mad at him, but I loved him, Arya. Later, Jon was in my chambers and noticed. We got into a huge row and he threw the crown into the flames. He stormed away and left for the hunt, but I had reached into the fire to get them. I couldn't let them burn,"

"And you didn't get help"

'I didn't think it was that bad" She answered honestly, "But when I started to get dizzy and felt my heart racing in the Godswood, I tried to get help, but I fainted instead"

"Jon blamed himself"

"It wasn't his fault. It was mine for not getting it checked out" She whispered.

"You should go back to him. You're hair is dry now" The maid had plaited it again, tying it off with a simple ribbon. Arya helped her dress in her nightgown and dressing gown. She left her feet bar. Jon always made the bed so hot with his warm skin.

"Goodnight, sister" Arya told her, kissing her cheek lightly. She wound her arms around her, pulling her into a hug. Arya relaxed after a few seconds and hugged her back loosely.

"Goodnight, Arya" She replied, watching her leave through her chamber doors. She meandered back into Jon's chambers. He was still sound asleep on the bed. She noticed then that he was lying above the covers with his boots still on. 

'Oh Jon" She whispered, approaching the bed and stroking his cheek. She pulled away and went towards his chamber doors. Two guards stood vigil outside. They looked down in surprise when she opened the door.

"I need you help" She whispered quietly. One of the guards nodded and followed her into the room. She had him lift Jon and take him to her bed. His chambers smelt like sickness and death. Jon slept so soundly that he didn't even wake as the guard hefted him up and into the other room. She asked the guard to have a maid clean the chambers in the morning.

When the guard was gone, she settled into bed next to Jon, who slept on. She usually teased him about how heavily he could sleep after not sleeping for days. He always allowed her teasing, a good natured smile on his face. She snuggled closer to him, laying her head against his chest. His heart beat strongly beneath her. Unconsciously he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her in even closer.

He started to wake up a few seconds later. She could tell by his increased breathing and the way he moved behind her. He was coming to his senses, no doubt realizing that he was in a new bed in a new room. She looked up in time to him blinking open his grey eyes in confusion. He looked baffled for a second before looking down at her. His eyes softened.

'Sansa" he whispered, reaching up to cup her cheek.

"Hi" She murmured, smiling faintly as he caressed her cheek. He had tears in his eyes.

"You're awake"

"Thanks to you" She whispered, "Arya told me what you did"

"It's my fault you w-"

'Don't you dare finish that sentence, Jon Snow" She warned, "I overreacted and I'm sorry. Childhood jealousy got the better of me"

"I shouldn't have acted as I did either. I could have ordered someone else to watch Arya, I should have been with you, I wanted to be with you"

"No, it had to be you, Jon. We both know that" She told him, "All is forgiven Jon. Just forgive yourself, please"

"I almost lost you, Sansa" He whispered, "You nearly died"

"But you saved me, Jon" She whispered, leaning up to kiss his lips. They were warm against her. It felt like coming home, being there in his arms, kissing him softly. He brought one hand to the back of her head and the other to her lower back as he kissed her soundly. She pulled away first, gasping for breath.

"I love you," He told her, startling her. She had loved him for awhile, but neither one of them had said it yet, "I do. I love you so much that I can't breath sometimes, Sansa"

"Good" She told him through her own tears, tears she hadn't even realized had formed, "Because I love you too, Jon Snow"


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa gains strength and mentions Gendry to Jon. Rickon goes to the capital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this story is starting to wind down. There will probably end up being 30 chapters total. Thank you all for reading and commenting!

Things did not go back to normal overnight. Jon had a lengthy apology for her and she had an equally lengthy one for him. So much of the past week, the pain and the miscommunication, could have been avoided if they had both just spoke with each other. They had certainly gotten closer since their marriage, but they still had so much more to learn about each other.

So they spent her time recovering doing just that. He laid abed with her, and they swapped tales of their lives apart.

On the first day abed, Jon entertained her with stories of Rickon and Arya's sparring matches, and how Rickon was actually starting to defeat Arya. He told her about Rickon's excitement to travel with the King and Queen, though he had worried about leaving her. He mused that perhaps Rickon would want to be a knight, just as Bran had wished at that age.

On the second day, she told him more about her time in the Vale. She told him about Randa,her only friend, and about Robin, the cousin she let die. She told him about Harry and his many children, and Lothor and Mya and their adorable relationship.

On the third day, he told her about the Wall and his betrayal. She had wept for him, holding him close. She couldn't believe they would do that to their own brother. It was hard to think of even now.

On the fourth day, she told him about Margaery Tyrell and the games they played. She showed him how easy it was for her to lie, something he hadn't believed until she was spinning a tale for him, one he nearly believed even though he knew her. 

On the fifth day he told her about going beyond the Wall, and how he had traveled with the Wildlings. He told her about his first love, Ygritte, and his first kill. He told her about the warg Owl and how he realized he could do the same with Ghost.

On the sixth day, she told him about their journey to the capital, and how Lady lost her life. She told him about Nymeria attacking Joff, the butcher boy, and Arya running away. She told him about the Hound and how he had protected her in his own strange way.

On the seventh day, she woke up alone. Jon was already up and out of her chambers, which was strange..Her strength had been mostly restored as had her appetite by day five, but Jon wanted her to rest some more. She felt nearly back to normal though. So she got dressed as if she was going to leave her chambers to break her fast in the Great Hall. Jon showed up though just before she was ready to leave, a plethora of excuses, and a tray of breakfast, at hand as to why she should spend another day abed.

"I've been lying in a bed for nearly three weeks, Jon" She moaned as he led her towards her bed, "I want to go to the dining hall and see the staff. I have things to do, people to write to"

"You need to get better, Sansa" Jon chided, sitting her down against the pillows, "Those things can wait. Sam and I have been taking care of them, as has Arya. It's good for her to learn how to run a household, a step towards being a proper lady, right?"

"I don't think Arya will ever be a proper lady, Jon" She told him with a smile. Jon chuckled and admitted defeat in that matter. Arya may have learned how to do the household ledgers and plan a week's worth of meals, but she still ran amuck around the castle, dressed in breaches and smeared with dirt. She challenged guards to duels and stole horses from the stables to ride into the woods with without a proper guard. She was particularly fond of meeting with the Wildlings in Winter Town to trade War stories and the like, "I actually wish to talk to you about Arya,"

"See? One more day abed getting to know each other" Jon told her with a satisfied smile, "And what about Arya do you wish to talk about?" Jon questioned, sitting next to her on the bed. He kept the tray on his legs, feeding her bits of the fruit with a fork. She liked to be pampered by him, but she still wished to take her food in the Great Hall with everyone else.

"When she escaped the capital when we were just little girls, she met a boy" She told him in between bites.

"A boy?" Jon interrupted, the fork dropping to the tray, "Seriously, Sansa? A boy?"

"Yes" She smacked his chest lightly. He was laughing at her now, no doubt thinking that the fever had addled her brain, "Stop interrupting me, Jon. As I was saying, there was a boy that traveled with them, the group that was going to the Wall. Arya's told you about that, yes?"

"Yes" Jon confirmed with a nod of his head. She noted that his hair was longer then his norm, though she supposed with her indisposed, there wasn't anyone to nag him about it. He liked it long, she didn't. She usually cut it for him when she deemed it too longer.

"His name was Gendry, he was a blacksmith apprentice in the capital" She continued, mentally making a note to cut his hair after they finished this conversation. She had promised Arya last night that she bring the subject to Jon, so that he could decide the proper course of action. She knew her sister needed a friend, and from Arya's stories, Gendry Waters was just that friend, "Arya wishes to find him and bring him to Winterfell. I think his presence would be immensely benificial to her happiness and health"

"Alright" Jon shrugged, "I don't really see what the problem is, love. I'll send a raven to this Gendry and invite him to Winterfell"

"Well" She hedged, "There is a slight issue we needs discuss before you do that, love"

"How slight?" He questioned, her tone giving away the severity of it all. She had let her masks fall away after the fever. It was like she was an open book to him now. He had always been easy to read, but she had always had her masks. Ever since Petyr, she wore them like armor. It was strange to be so bare before her own husband. She felt closer, in a way.

"He has a rather complicated lineage"

"Sansa, love, just spit it out" Jon told her.

"His name is Gendry Water, he's the bastard son of the late King Robert"

"Robert Baratheon?" Jon clarified slowly, "The Robert Baratheon that killed my Aunt's entire family?" He never referred to the deceased Targaryen's as his family. When he spoke of his father, he spoke of hers. He never spoke of how he felt about the death of his entire line. She never asked.

"Why do you always call them your Aunt's family?" She finally questioned, "They were your family as well"

"No" Jon shook his head after a few seconds of silence, a few seconds in which she thought she had crossed the line, "No, my family was here in Winterfell. I had family, Sansa, I always had family even if I was just the bastard son. Dany never had that. She had Viserys who was mad. She had no love in her life as she grew up and she will never get that back. She will never forgive"

"Would you forgive them?" She wondered. 

"You forgave Jaime Lannister, did you not?" He questioned in turn. She had forgiven him. He had saved her from Petyr Baelish, he had fulfilled an oath to her mother. She forgave him even though his family had killed hers, "People do things in war, Sansa. It is complicated for me to think about it all. My grandfather murdered my other grandfather and uncle. My father kept my mother as a prisoner of war as he rode off to battle my uncle, a man I believed to be my father for sixteen years, who was waging war on my father's family," Jon sighed and shook his head.

"I never thought about it like that" She whispered.

"I think of it all the time" Jon admitted, "When I first met Dany, I realized that in the end, it saved me, in a way. Your father saved me, not only from death, but from growing up in a world focused on revenge. I love my Aunt and my brother, Sansa, but I pity them as well. They will never know the love of a family the way I did, no one would have taken them in, not even Elia's family. Your father risked his life and the life of everyone around him, for my mother and I, for his sister. And I would do the same for Arya"

"You'll help find Gendry Waters?" She questioned, not quite realizing that his little epiphany was going to lead to that. She was grateful though, it would make Arya immensely happy.

"If it will make her happy, then yes" Jon nodded, "And if it gets her out of our way for a little while, then that works as well" He whispered, leaning over to kiss her cheek. 

"She's not around right now" She murmured, tilting her head so that her fruity lips could meet his own. He kissed her chastely, pulling away with a shake of his head.

"You need rest" He reminded her.

"I'm done bloody resting, Jon!" She raved. She got out of bed, knowing he couldn't go as fast with the tray of food still over his legs. She was just about to pull her chamber door open when he grabbed her around the waist, pulling her away, "Jon!" She shrieked.

"Ssh, or they'll think I'm harming you" He whispered against her neck as he peppered the sensitive skin with hot open mouthed kisses.

"I thought I needed rest" She murmured as he swept her legs up from the ground, carrying her towards the bed.

"We can rest later" He replied, tossing her onto the featherbed. She shrieked as he jumped on top of her, using his knees and elbows to keep most of his weight off of her. He started tickling her sides, causing her to gasp for breath as she laughed and yelled at him to stop. He smiled above her, relentlessly attacking her sides. He looked so carefree and young, though she supposed she looked the same.

So she gave in to his tickling, which led to more pleasurable activities, which led to spooning naked under the furs, discussing the merits of finding Gendry Waters or not, which was not a typical post coital conversation for either of them.

"Gendry was part of her pack, Jon" She found herself saying, "She needs him,"

"Then we'll find Gendry Waters"


End file.
